#this is why I have to take six months to write fics bc my ideas cook like caramelising onions. takes forever

[wolfvmin]

glimpse of us: exile

pairing: husband!yoongi x female reader ; namjoon x reader genre: angst, divorce, arranged marriage (but not really), age gap kinda (5 years), unrequited love, pining (reader), fluff wc: 19.5k (my first full fic? :O) playlist: glimpse of us. warnings: read part one first. a lot of pov changes at the party scene, kinda unedited, angst, major 2nd lead syndrome vibes, idk how to tag warnings obviously, kissing, implied sex, lots of flashback scenes, bad writing bc i can't write. note: aaaaaa it's finally here. things didn't go as planned because i didn't expect to be really busy in the first month of junior year in uni T.T !! i'm really sorry to those who waited and thank you for giving me 500+ notes on the first part of glimpse of us. summary: he was the perfect husband and it's a perfect marriage... but it's time to let him go. PART 1 masterlist

“yoongi? are you listening to me?”

the voice that was just an echo on the back of his head grows louder, fishing him out of the abyss of thoughts he’s been having. he looks back at the woman who sits across from him with wide eyes, suddenly realizing he had been out of it again.

“yeah, sorry.” yoongi replies with an obvious lie and straightens up his back. his girlfriend sighs and sips her coffee while avoiding his gaze. he knows that she’s now pissed at him.

“are you really going to think about work while i’m here? we’ve been barely going out as it is and you do this?” yuna’s voice raises at him. he looks around the cafe, worried about the eyes that turned to them.

“can you turn your voice down?” he pleads in a whisper, leaning closer to the woman.

she scoffs at him, crossing her arms. “my voice is not the issue here.”

it was always like this. nothing seems to be going right with them anymore. if they can’t see each other because of their conflicting schedules, they’re either arguing or ignoring each other because of the argument. despite this, yoongi believes it’s just the 7-year itch and if they both try to get through it, they can overcome it.

“i know. i’m sorry.” he sighs and looks down at his drink. “what were you saying again?”

“i told you i met someone.”

it didn’t sink in at first. time stays still as his body goes frozen in his seat.

just a second ago, his mind was as if a desk of a mad scientist, thoughts scrambled as a million worries, ideas, and images run through his head. he was a man that never stopped running, always chasing a prize that was dangling in front of him. and he loved it. but he was too blind to see the truth. he had been doing it wrong all this time.

he didn’t know that six words had the power to boil down years of noise in his head into one word–a question.

“what?”

he sat there in misery as she explained. the words coming out from her mouth swirled in his head like a tornado, swiping every last plan he has in the future for the both of them. it is only now that he takes notice of how her hair is not kept as neatly as it usually is. he recalls how a different smell of shampoo had hit his nose when he hugged her in greeting earlier.

she tells him how she spent the night in another man’s bed but never doing the things expected of a person who’s going behind her partner’s back. she doesn’t do them. no, yuna is not a person to do that. but she tells him of how she yearned to. and that’s why she can’t bear the thought of being with him further.

because she realized that she doesn’t want him anymore.

how her voice trembled when she said goodbye, yoongi doesn’t even notice. the way she stood up from her seat, yoongi doesn’t even look at.

just like that, yoongi was left inside that cafe, sitting where he felt his whole world stop.

he was ashamed of himself.

it’s amazing how in one room, different kind of lives are being lived. some are laughing with their friends, others just enjoying their coffee on a nice and sunny day, a few typing away at their laptops in a buzzing cafe instead of a quiet library, the cafe staff just getting by and doing their job for the day. all of this happening while one man in his seat just felt his whole world shatter just by six words.

now he realizes that the prize he was chasing was tied to him over his head. like a fool, he was chasing something that if only he stops for a moment, he could easily reach it with both his hands. he could have taken it and held it close to him. maybe that way, the swift air from his running wouldn’t have taken it away from him. but it did. and it’s all because of him.

from that moment on, he swore he wouldn’t let such a thing happen again.

but it does.

a usual monday for yoongi goes like this: first, he eats the breakfast you cook. second, he drives to work. third, he texts you when he arrives. four, he slaves himself to work the whole day and a few hours of the night. fifth, he texts you when he’s about to go home. sixth, he drives home from work at a late hour. lastly, he either finds you asleep or waiting for him while having a midnight snack. 

the monday goes as it does for him at first. so, expectedly, it would continue as it is for the rest of the night. obviously, things doesn’t usually go as it does.

the first unusual thing he finds is how the lights are turned off when he enters the apartment. it doesn’t matter if you’re asleep or watching a movie in the living room, you always leave the dim light by the entrance turned on.

“y/n?”

the second unusual thing that happens is when he shouts your name, no one answers. from that moment, he realizes that you were out of the house. 

the third unusual thing is why didn’t you tell him? were you spending the night at your parents house? out with a friend? or perhaps at work? you always text him if you’re going to be out of the house. so why didn’t you tonight?

worry fills his system at the thought of you being out and him having no idea where. he knows you can handle yourself well but you not telling him where you’ve gone doesn’t feel right to him. 

his hand finds the light switch in the dark like it’s second nature. and just like that, the apartment comes to life with bright lights and a clean atmosphere. 

he doesn’t find the place unusual. everything was just like he left it. it was only you that was missing from the picture. 

but a few steps in, he finds the last thing he would find unusual for the night. 

the box that he usually sees underneath your closet rack is now sitting on top of the coffee table in the living room and beside it were two envelopes. one in legal size and another in letter. 

he throws his leathered sling bag on the couch and picks up the letter. for some reason, there was a pounding in his heart that he can’t explain. perhaps, it was his body telling him that something unpleasant was about to happen. his furrowed brows and blazing eyes scan through the words in the letter. the words sorry and end were the only things that made sense to him. he couldn’t read the letter fully as he could feel his chest tighten second by second. 

this isn’t happening. this isn’t happening. this isn’t happening. 

his eyes shift to the bigger envelope on the table. the trembling hands of his abandon the sheet of paper in his hands only to grasp the envelope and roughly see the content inside of it. 

he felt his knees weaken at the words he finds on the document that he falls in a slump on the couch, staring blankly at the paper and taking in the weight of your signature on it.

it takes him a few minutes to get back to reality. and just like before, all his thoughts was silenced with one word.

why? 

he picks up the letter that fell to the floor, reading it calmly this time. 

his eyes move slowly and carefully as if he’s afraid of the words he’s going to read. this time, the words doesn’t come like a tornado. this time, it comes like tsunami. before he knew it, he’s already underwater and being pushed in all directions by the water. 

i’m sorry. 

i didn’t think i could tell you this in person. i thought about it carefully, yoongi. but i don’t think i can go on with this. i’ve known for a while even before you’ve said it that night–that it’s not me you truly see at first, i thought it was okay. i don’t mind if the love you give is borrowed. i’d rather be loved like this than not being loved at all by you. i’d take whatever love you can give. then, i realize how fucked up it is. in the process of loving you, i’d forgotten how to love myself. it’s cheesy, i know. but what can i do when the man who i love only loves me because he finds her in me? is there a space for the real me in your heart, yoongi? because if we’re honest, if it’s down to me and her, who would you choose? that night, when you told me i am just like her that’s why you can’t lose me, i just knew it had to stop. i don’t want to be the person you settle for just because you can’t have her. 

i’m sorry, yoongi. i know that by doing this, i’m hurting you. but it has to end before any more people get hurt. 

i’ll let you go so you can find her again. 

we can talk about this further when you’re ready. 

y/n.

the whiskey rolled on his tongue, the bitter taste on his buds lingering as he swallowed the strong drink. not even letting his tongue get to its aftertaste, he takes another swig of the highly alcoholic drink.

“you need to slow down.”

his best friend reminds him as he sits beside him on the couch—the couch you specifically chose. everything in this house, you chose. every corner of the place, he sees you. every little thing reminded him of you.

he groans and limply hold the glass by his knee. he hung his head back and rests his forearm on his forehead. seokjin watches and sighs at the misery of his best friend.

“i think i need someone to tell me how to live life.” yoongi blurts out.

“why would you think that?” seokjin asks with a snort before taking a sip of his drink. his face scrunches after taking in the taste of the whiskey, realizing it was way too strong for his liking. he takes another sip anyway. that’s just how seokjin is.

“i think i’ve been doing it wrong so far.” the man answers with a mutter.

seokjin gazes at his best friend and then to the divorce papers on the table. he recalls the text he received from his friend’s wife in the afternoon.

hi jin. if u’re free tonight can u check on yoongi after his shift? i think he’ll need u.

the day the jin dreads has come. knowing yoongi the best, he wished that it didn’t happen like this. he felt bad for his friend but worse for you. you don’t deserve this. the fact that you still went out of your way to make sure your husband was alright when you were divorcing him, he doesn’t think it will be easy for yoongi to find someone like you again.

“when do you plan to talk to her?” seokjin asks in relation to the last line in the letter.

yoongi removes his arm from his face and looks at seokjin. he sighs and slumps more on the couch, body sliding down lower until his chin rests on his chest.

“i don’t know.”

“you went through with it.”

jungkook doesn’t greet you when he enters your office. it only took looking at your tired face, the bags under your eyes, and the way you teared up the moment you see him step foot in the room with documents in his hands. he had no idea you were going to do it. he knew that you had everything ready after the hawaii trip but you never told him you were going to do it already.

“i did it.” the corner of your lips turned upward in a small, sad smile.

“huh.” he reacts, looking down on his feet. your brow furrows at the sudden drop of his mood, curious as to why his sulkiness doesn’t only indicate pity.

your friend drags his feet to get near you and drops himself on his favorite chair across you. “has he signed it?” he asks, dropping the papers on your table.

“i left the papers and a letter at home yesterday. he hasn’t made contact since then.” you answer, getting the papers he brought you. he takes one glace at it and was reminded why he was there in the first place.

“need you to sign these to finalize the deal with the kim enterprise.” he says as you examine the papers. “i arranged a meeting for you with them by your secretary. it’s on friday.”

you nod and grabbed the pen at the side of your desk. the metallic casing of the caran d’ache sign pen yoongi gifted to you is cold on your skin as you held it. your thumb caresses the engraved name on the expensive gold plated casing, feeling the comfort of the familiar rough texture of it. your name looks good with his, such a shame you have to give it back to him.

you shake your head and put it inside the drawer under your desk so you won’t see or use it again. this time, you grab a different pen, a normal one that you liked using for signing before your marriage.

you finally sign the papers and hand it over to your friend who was still looking down on his shoes. there was a slight pout on his face, so you wonder what was on his mind.

“okay, what’s bothering you?” you sigh.

he bites his lip before looking at you for a second then avoiding your stare. “it’s nothing.” he says before standing up.

you grab his arm before he can get away, standing up in the process. “get back here right now.”

his jaw clenches. “i just—i feel kind of responsible.” he answers, still not looking at you.

his words takes you aback, loosening your grip on him.

“what?” you let him go to stutter the word out of your mouth.

“you started to doubt him after the hawaii trip. after what i said.”

now you realize what was on his mind and understand why. you don’t indulge jungkook much on your relationship. despite him being your best friend, you didn’t feel like telling anyone your doubts on the marriage, not even yourself.

you only told him after the hawaii trip about everything. he listened attentively but you noticed there was something bothering him a bit since then.

jungkook liked yoongi. he treated him like an older brother. but you were his best friend and yoongi had his mistakes. still, he couldn’t help but things happened differently.

he knows that with this marriage dissolving, he might lose yoongi as a friend. but most importantly, he was scared that you will lose the light in your eyes. he was glad you’re going to be free of him and could not hurt you further than he was doing but he wonders if there was a slight chance that you would be happy for a lifetime just living in your bubble of a marriage that maybe wouldn’t have popped if he hadn’t shown you how to. he thinks this all happened because of him.

“kookie, it was doomed from the start and never your fault.” you sigh, before continuing. “it didn’t start with you. or even with me. it started with yoongi. but i’m the one ending it for all of us. the two of us deserve better than pretending everything’s okay.”

you really wanted yoongi to be the one to reach out first. two weeks has passed and there still was no sign of him wanting to communicate with you. if he wanted to cut you off so bad, why hasn’t he signed the papers?

so here you are now, in front of your apartment. the two of you have to settle with an agreement before your father’s birthday gala on saturday and you can’t do that if he’s still not willing to talk to you.

you punched in the numbers on the keypad lock. it was the combination of the years you were born. just another reminder how far apart you were. although five years isn’t really a huge age difference, it was another factor that doesn’t make you her.

you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous that the passkey would be changed. but as the lock in front of you dinged green and let you in, a sense of relief comes to you.

you know that yoongi isn’t here and still at work. with that knowledge, you allow yourself to check the place. it was just like you left it, clean and quiet. there isn’t much food left in the fridge so you figure that he’s been eating out. at least, that’s what you wish. you hope his secretary, kim taehyung, is making sure he eats well.

you look over your wrist watch. there’s still more than an hour before yoongi comes home. with the time you have, you can cook a few side dishes he can eat with take out. without thinking more about it, you get to work.

wearing your apron, you hum to yourself while preparing the ingredients, finding yourself easily lost in how much the place and activity felt like second skin to you.

there are two coping mechanisms when you’re anxious for what’s in store in the future. first, is you think about it every minute of the day and let it destroy you. second, you completely ignore it until it happens. you were obviously doing the latter this time.

you haven’t thought about how you’re going to talk about the divorce to your parents. so far, the only people who knows about it from your side is jungkook, your secretary, and maria. you don’t know who yoongi has told yet but you’re sure seokjin knows. that’s four people. four people outside your relationship that knows what’s in store.

the moment more people know, it’s irreversible and real.

you wonder how your parents will react. their only daughter, divorced at a young age with no children. they won’t be happy but you’re sure they’ll understand.

just as you were putting the cooked dishes inside their tupperware, you hear the door open. you hold your breath and freeze. suddenly scared of his reaction to your unannounced return.

this is the first time you’ve seen him in two weeks yet you don’t know how to act. instead, you watch as yoongi drags his body inside, eyes on his feet and head hung low like a zombie. your heart breaks at how tired he looks.

“yoongi.”

his whole body tenses up and freezes for a moment before finally looking up to look at you. it seems as if his eyes couldn’t believe what he was seeing. you, in your apron, cooking as if nothing happened.

“y–y/n.” he stutters as he straightens his posture, countenance brightening. “wha–what are you doing here?” he fixes his tie while walking over to you.

the loud clasps of you closing air-tight containers filled the room before you answer his question. “dad’s birthday is on saturday.” you start as you stack the containers inside the fridge. “if you’re not ready to talk about it, we should come to an agreement for the birthday gala.”

you had your back turned to him so you can’t see his face as he replied but you notice the way his voice drops in disappointment. “oh. the gala.”

you don’t understand. what was he expecting? for you to take back your word on the divorce? you saw how his face brightened when he saw you in the kitchen. you hate how he is so obviously disappointed when he realized you were only here to talk about the gala. you hate how he hasn’t contacted you in two weeks. it’s so yoongi of him to give you space when he feels, or rather assumes, you need it. you hate how he doesn’t understand that the space was for him–for him to decide whether to correct his wrongs or to put an end to it. you hate how he hasn’t fought for you. you hate how much you wish he would ask you to take him back. you hate that because of him–because of her, you can’t stay. but above it all, you hate yourself.

you hate that even if you’ve decided to put an end to it, you can’t help but feel regret.

the gala arrives faster than you hope it would.

when you and yoongi had the conversation in the penthouse, you both agreed to go to the gala together like nothing happened. with that, he decided to forego the driver for tonight, personally fetching you from your apartment.

it was weird.

the agreement was you will act like there wasn’t to be a divorce in public, not when you were alone. yet when he arrives at your door, he holds a beautiful bouquet of a variety of flowers as if you were still dating. he opens the door to you with a charming smile and made jokes in the car as he hummed to the music on the radio like he was having fun.

his slim-fit single-breasted armani suit in midnight blue suits him like it’s second skin. he wears with it a black shirt with a silver-striped midnight blue necktie. it was nothing new to you. formal wear was something he wore often. but tonight, you had to stop yourself from drooling at how good your future ex-husband looked.

and how good he looked next to you.

complementing his midnight blue outfit, you wore an evening dress in the same color. it was nothing grand but it was classy. a tight-fit, spaghetti-strapped silk dress that hugged your curves, modest in front but backless to your lower back. on your neck and ears is a simple set of diamond necklace and earrings your father has gifted you on one of your birthdays.

everyone greeted you with big smiles as you strode into room with his hand on your waist. you were the l/n’s only daughter, after all. and beside you was the famous min.

the night went by easily. the two of you faked your smiles here and there. the two of you weren’t just born into your position in your companies, you both knew how to act and earned them. just like that, it was easy to pretend that you were both very in love.

well, there wasn’t much pretending on your part before.

after you had made your greetings to your parents and yoongi’s and when all of the guests are mostly seated and has left you alone, yoongi and you sat side by side on one circular table. your father was about to make his birthday speech.

“y/n. yoongi.”

kim seokjin greets you with a sigh of relief as he sat down beside yoongi. “thank god the hags has left you alone. i was bored in the corner watching it all end.” he sits beside yoongi and you gave him a smile.

you’ve always liked seokjin. he was a good friend not only to yoongi but also to you. he might not be the ceo type like his brother namjoon but he has his own charms. not finding his passion in business, he turned to modeling and acting instead and gave the position to his younger brother. you trust that he will take care of yoongi when you can no longer do it for him.

“tell me about it.” your head whips to your best friend that now sits beside you.

there is a sense of relief that flashes to you when the two people you both trust are now beside you. it’s as if they were your safe zone. jungkook had always been your person and seokjin was yoongi’s. they are the first person to know everything about you two, even if there are no words said.

you can’t help but wonder what they think. do they think you are making the right decision?

“don’t look so down or people are going to notice.” jungkook whispers in your ear through a smile.

you glare at him and was about to reply with a comeback when the lights dimmed, indicating the program was about to start. your father walks to the platform gracefully. ever the sophisticated man, everyone’s head turned to him as he moved. he clears his throat before speaking.

“good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

whatever words that come out of his mouth were a blur to you after the greeting. it was the same every year, anyway.

instead, your mind drifts to the person beside you. next year, at the same gala, he would not be sitting next to you like this. it’s funny how a seat symbolizes something so important to you.

being married, it was always a given. you save each other a seat because you belong beside him. knowing that the spot next to you won’t be his anymore, it breaks your heart because it was always his to own even if the day that he won’t be sitting there comes.

it’s such a shame your spot next to him is borrowed. as much as you want to, you can’t have the seat beside him anymore.

yoongi tenses beside you. you are so beautiful with your hair fixed like that. he can’t take his eyes off of you. he wants to memorize every detail of you so he can take it with him everywhere.

he figured that he can’t let you stay at an unfair relationship. he knew you were right. it has to end.

you loved him more than he deserved. he shouldn’t have loved you because of her. he should have loved you because you were you.

with his time left with you, he would at least try to make things right.

his hand twitches on his side as he stared at yours that lay prettily on your lap. the silver band around your ring finger glistens in reflection to the light of the room. he remembers vividly when he bought it.

the diamond engagement ring that sits next to it was the very same ring he planned on buying for her.

his bullshit plans.

his plans for her, he fulfilled them with you like a fool.

so adamant on doing the right things as if you were her, he didn’t realize he was doing the wrong things for you. it didn’t make him a better man or a better lover. it made him hurt you instead.

“i’d like to give thanks to mr. kim namjoon, who is our partner in a new deal arranged by my one and only beautiful daughter. a round of applause for these two amazing young people, everyone.”

your father mentioning you pushes out his thoughts as you give a thankful smile to everyone now looking at you. his gaze drifts over to who you were looking at.

namjoon, his friend’s brother. the cunningly smart ceo of the kim enterprise. yoongi had always admired his leadership skills. besides admiration, there might even be a slight envy of namjoon being a natural leader. he was rivals with him in business school. the guy was awfully talented and being seokjin’s closest friend, he knows that one of the reason seokjin gave up his spot for the ceo position is because he knows that his younger brother was far more capable than him. well, that and he just despises business classes.

yoongi doesn’t miss the way namjoon gives you his dimpled smile and a small nod of appreciation from his seat. he can’t help but feel a slight burn in his chest. seokjin never kept it secret that namjoon has a crush on you even before the two of you got together. he knows that it wasn’t the disrespectful kind. namjoon never crossed his line or sought after you. in fact, yoongi thought him to be too respectful, too nice, and too perfect. it made him insecure.

before, he was confident in your love because you chose him out of all the men at your feet. you gave him your love. now, he wasn’t sure you made the right choice.

gathering all the confidence he could have from his seat, he reaches for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. you don’t act surprised nor look at him but he vaguely feels you freeze in his hold.

he squeezes your hand lightly and all your tense muscles break loose. just like that, he feels your hand grip his softly. as if you were telling him it’s okay.

this one action was telling him that you still love him—you still find your home in him. it breaks him to know that you love him so much more than he ever did. it breaks him to know that if he asks, there is a great possibility that you will take him back. and god does he want to.

he doesn’t think he could take seeing you with another man but that would be selfish of him.

sooner or later, he has to let you go. for your sake.

you had your meal normally. the dessert does not taste as sweet with the silence between the two of you. seokjin and jungkook does all the talking, bickering like two siblings like they always do.

min yoongi was hard to read. how could he just hold your hand like that? maybe you were reading too much into it. this can’t be like this any further. you have to know what’s on his mind. he has to talk to you soon about it.

a shadowing presence towers behind you, urging you to look behind and see where kim namjoon stands. he’s on his feet, standing while holding a champagne glass on one hand and gives you a cute polite smile. he had finally approached you tonight. “mrs. min.” he greets.

you stand up from your seat in respect and greet him with a smile that rivals his. “namjoon, i told you to call me y/n.”

namjoon was older than you but not older than yoongi. although the three of you were in the same circle of people even before your parents introduced you to yoongi, namjoon was someone who just stood out to you since you were kids. you purposely sought him out for this deal because with him in it, it’s a sure success.

his eyes shift to the man that was still sitting on your table. “mr. min.” he gives a small bow in his direction. only then yoongi looks up and nods. “mr. kim.” he doesn’t smile back. even if it’s not like him to hand out smiles at every chance he can, you sense that there is something odd with the way he looks at namjoon.

“well, i’m not really here to talk about work. i just wanted to greet my new partner and her husband.” namjoon says, scratching the back of his head.

“but i am.” your father appears at your side, placing a hand on your back and namjoon’s, bringing you closer with him.

“go and promote the project with namjoon.” he whispers directly at you. you roll your eyes and namjoon chuckles and shakes his head. when he sees your reaction, he lightly pinches your side. “go!” he urges with a whisper.

“but i’m here with yoongi.” you protest while namjoon watches the adorable father-daughter interaction.

“yoongi wouldn’t mind.” he answers before walking in the middle of you and namjoon and to yoongi who directed his attention to speaking with seokjin and jungkook. he lays a hand on his shoulder and leans in.

“son, do you mind me taking y/n for a while? i know you lovebirds can’t be separated but think it’s for the company.” your father asks with shit-eating grin. the word ‘separated’ almost made you laugh at the bitter thought. you saw yoongi’s smug smirk at when he said it too. if your father only knew.

“of course, father.” yoongi answers while looking straight into your eyes.

you and namjoon were quickly whisked away to meet the guests. if you didn’t know what the invitations of the party says, you would guess it’s a party for you and namjoon.

from time to time, you would steal a glance at your husband who was still sitting with your friends. he was in conversation with them but is in deep thought.

“you’re going to burn holes into my brother’s head.” seokjin teases with a smirk. yoongi takes his eyes off you laughing at something your dad’s friend was saying and glares at seokjin instead.

as if it wasn’t enough, jungkook agrees. “yeah hyung, tone it down it’s kind of scary.”

“shut up, you two.” he growls and crosses his arms.

jungkook gives him a cheeky grin and slides into your seat. judging by the look on his face, yoongi already knows the younger man has an agenda. “what happened?”

yoongi narrows his eyes. “what do you mean what happened?”

“you two went together so i assume you’ve talked, right?” jungkook asks with a tilted head.

seokjin nods, resting his head on his fist while leaning on the table. “yeah, yeah. you’re right. i’ve been curious too, jungkook. what happened, yoongi?”

yoongi glares at his friend again and looks ahead of him. you were still talking to investors with namjoon. “tsk. we haven’t talked about it.”

“what the fuck do you mean you haven’t talked about it?” seokjin whispers angrily, brows furrowed as he leaned closer to yoongi’s face.

yoongi avoids the gaze of his friends. “i still don’t know what to say.”

jungkook dramatically slaps a hand to his forehead. “it’s not rocket science, hyung! say ‘i’m sorry. i don’t want yuna. i want you. i’ll be better.’” he says while doing his impression of how yoongi talks.

“okay, first of all,” yoongi puts a finger up in front of jungkook’s face. ”i don’t talk like that.” yoongi shifts his body to the other direction and asks seokjin, offended. “do i talk like that?” seokjin only shrugs.

he turns back to jungkook again. “and it’s not that easy.” he says with a sigh.

“he’s right.” seokjin agrees. yoongi and jungkook turn to look at him, wondering who he agrees with. the receiver of the stares continues his words. “yoongi’s right. it’s not easy.”

seokjin purses his lips, gaze hardening on yoongi. it’s not like seokjin to become serious like this, he’s almost angry. “it’s not easy to decide whether he really wants y/n to stay because he wants her… or he’s just afraid to be alone again.”

yoongi freezes on his seat, stunned at his best friend’s words. he hears the drag of seokjin’s stare as he stands up. from his peripheral vision, he sees seokjin fix his suit before talking.

“whatever it is, be sure it doesn’t hurt you or y/n anymore.” he says softly and walks away, leaving the two men seated pondering to themselves.

the ride back to your apartment was quiet until he parked in front of it. it was all over. you had said good night to him and told him he did a good job tonight. all that was left to do for you was to step out of the car. you’ve detached your seatbelt and had your hand on the handle when yoongi grabs your arm, stopping you mid-way of your attempt to escape him.

“can’t i fix this?”

and there it is.

he said those four words that he always wanted to say to you. he asks the question like you had the answer when he knows all too well that the answer lies with him. but this wasn’t him literally literally asking you if he can fix this, this was him asking you if you’re willing to give him a chance.

you slowly turn to him. there were no emotions in your eyes. no sign of anything. he had never seen you like this.

“can you?”

he swallows and releases your arm, not answering the question you ask back to him. how can he when he doesn’t know the answer? he had never known the answer. he didn’t when seokjin asked him that question when they were drinking. he didn’t when he realized that he sees a glimpse of her through you from the very beginning. he didn’t when you left him the divorce papers and the letter. he didn’t when seokjin dropped that bomb on him earlier at the party. he doesn’t know even now, where you had your whole self open in front of him, waiting for his answer.

wait.

everybody had to fucking wait for him. what was so great about a man like him? maybe he deserves to be alone. maybe you were better off without him.

no. fuck.

this isn’t about him. this is about you.

his priority is you.

he doesn’t want to lose you but you shouldn’t wait around until he knows why. he’s a mess right now.

you hum in satisfaction at his silence and inhaled with closed eyes. you exhale loudly and yoongi realizes you were holding back tears.

“i’m just–” you pause, your voice trembling. you shake your head and open your eyes to stare straight at him with pinched brows and pleading eyes. “i’m not so sure about myself when i’m with you anymore, yoongi.”

“you built our relationship on her, don’t you realize?”

the tears in his eyes well up before he even knows it. he watches as your face contort into a sob. you were breaking down in front of him like this. he made you feel like this. the woman he married. the woman he loves at night and wakes up to everyday. his best friend. his girlfriend. his wife. the woman he loves.

the woman who taught him to love again.

his mother couldn’t stand him moping around anymore. “it’s been two years”, she said. “just one date”, she pleads.

that’s how yoongi finds himself attending a dinner at a hotel one evening. he was running a bit late from work so he barely made an effort to look nice, not that he was making an effort for the past two years. he hasn’t cut his hair for months and he just threw on a loose black suit jacket and pants that he had at the trunk of his car. he was even wearing jordans, for fuck’s sake. he may be a teeny tiny bit out of place. he’s surely going to get a scolding from his mother at the prime age of 29.

the valet takes his keys in front of the entrance. it’s a good thing his family is a regular here. he doesn’t have to worry much about how he looks from the staff. the guests however, are a different story.

the looks he received were not much to think about. he was spared a glance but everyone just went on their way. okay, maybe he exagerrated with how he saw his outfit. yeah. fuck that, he was almost late.

he strides through the lobby, determined to get there before the woman he was about to meet but he doubts you’ll be late. he has heard of you. the soon-to-be ceo of the company that owns these hotels.

he can feel holes burning through his head, sensing that someone was staring at him. great. he’s being judged now like he expected. could this day get worse?

he shakes his head and steps in the elevator, turning to see the view of the lobby. he finds that a woman was staring at him. unlike him, she was dressed as if she own the place, clad in a simple black dress that reaches the floor with expensive jewelry all around her neck and wrists. she doesn’t even break eye contact with him as the elevator closes.

are people so shamelessly judgemental these days? he asks to himself.

“yoongi! you’re here just in time.” yoongi’s father greets just as he enters the private dining room. he bows at the four people seated. he can actually feel his mother’s stare from head-to-toe and hear her internal screams from where he was bowing.

your parents greet him with wide smiles. the staff slides the heavy chair from the table and lets him sit. he thanks him before he walks away to get a bottle of wine that your father ordered.

“my daughter texted me she’s by the lobby already. she’ll be here any second now.” your mother informs yoongi and his parents.

as if on cue, the door swings open to reveal the last person the party has been waiting for.

there you stand. the same person who was staring at him in the lobby. he sees your eyes widen for a moment when your eyes lay on him but you quickly recovered with a smirk you sent his way. a second after, you greet everyone with a smile.

you charmed your way through the dinner. you were smart, cunning, beautiful, and kind. you told him and his parents of your ambitions and wants for the company. even if you were at an age of dreaming, yoongi had no doubt you will be able to achieve them with the way you carry yourself.

you had so much light in your eyes. it reminded him of when he used to be like you. it reminded him of a time when he used to dream with her.

he walks you to the lobby after the dinner as yours and his parents insisted. your driver was already waiting outside. you stopped just by the exit.

“sorry for staring here in the lobby earlier.” you say with a genuine smile and walked again. yoongi was a bit shocked you would even bring it up. were you disappointed that he was the one you were meeting?

“it’s just that i smelled you when you passed by and you smell so good.” you explain as he follows you out of the doors. his eyes widened at your words. you weren’t staring because of his underwhelming style?

“it wasn’t because of what i wore?” he blinks, dumbfounded.

“what’s wrong with your clothes?” you look him up and down, examining. “you look hot.”

he was taken aback at your straightforwardness. “i’m a bit underdressed, aren’t i? few people were staring too.” he lightly argues, tilting his head as he fixes his jacket. the car door was already opened to you by your driver and was just waiting for you to come in.

“they were staring because you’re handsome, dude.” did you just call him dude? you huff before muttering. “you know for an old guy, you’re really mean to yourself.” dude, old guy, mean. he’s astonished at your choice of words.

“anyway, i gotta bounce. see you on our first date!” you jump in the back seat of the car as you said it. the driver shuts the door in front of him.

“i haven’t agreed?” he mumbles to himself a little too loud and sees you roll down your window.

“you will!” you give him a cheeky smile and place a hand over the rolled down glass window that was still slightly peeking out. “you haven’t told me what perfume you wear!” you giggle and finally roll up your tinted windows.

the car drives away and he’s left standing outside of the hotel, still dumbfounded at your character. he feels a bubbling feeling in his chest and he smiles. what was he so worried about today anyway? with that thought, he laughs to himself, not caring about the stares of passerbys.

that very next day, he texts his mother to arrange a first date with you. not because you called him handsome, or old man, or mean.

he agreed because for the first time in two years, you made him genuinely laugh.

his left hand gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. the stare you gave him, your tired eyes begging him to say something.

“i don’t want to lose you. that’s all i know.” yoongi admits.

you press your lips together in a downward smile and shake your head, sniffing before talking.

“that’s not enough, yoongi. i’m sorry.” the words leave your mouth steady, as if you put the last of your energy in it. then, you exit the car, leaving him all alone in the cold-conditioned vehicle.

at the age of 27, yoongi lost who he believed to be the love of his life. at the age of 29, he meets you. at the age of 31, he marries you. and at the age of 33, he lost you.

maybe in another universe, he was capable of loving you. in that universe, he would be cuddling you in bed, naked for each other to melt into. in that universe, he makes you genuinely happy with him. in that universe, he is completely and undeniably in love with you.

but in this universe, he sits across yuna in a restaurant. she arranged a private room for them, coincidentally in one of your hotels.

“you’re divorced?” yuna asks as she sips on her tea.

here she is in front of him, the woman he loved all his life. from high school to college and to that very last day on that cafe. she was his first everything. his first kiss, first love, and first heartbreak. what they had was a love burning of passion. eventually, the passion led him astray.

yuna used to be someone who cheered for him and he used to be someone who supported her.

“you won!” yuna jumps up and down with yoongi, their hands clasps together in glee. “we won!” yoongi screams back. the cheers of the people around them blended with their own screams in the gym.

he laughs wholeheartedly and wraps his arms around her, sweaty body pressing against hers. time seemed to stop for yoongi, he could feel his chest burning as he looked at her, eyes screaming with happiness that sources from something else than winning his basketball game.

“i think i love you.” yoongi blurts out.

yuna freezes in his hold, wide eyes staring at him in disbelief. he watches as a wide smile paints her face with unexplained happiness. she nods repeatedly and squeals.

“i think i love you too!”

it was then that the realization dawns on him. he’s in love with his best friend. since then and there, he vowed that wherever she goes, he will follow her as long as she wanted him too. and if she doesn’t, he will still support her from afar.

“yeah, yeah four months ago.” yoongi answers her. yuna nods and finishes chewing the slice of sashimi in her mouth.

“hmm, that’s not really long ago. how do you feel about that?” yuna asks, not even looking at him at all. 

it’s funny. he used to think about this all the time–seeing her again. now she’s in front of him but he is nothing but a stranger to her. there were no bitter feelings in her. it’s like yoongi was nothing but a thing in the past that she has forgotten. meanwhile, yoongi is wrecked. 

“i don’t know.” he used to answer with those three words a lot lately.

“i’m not going to beat around the bush. you know i hate doing that.” yuna uses a napkin to wipe her mouth. she had the same face, mannerisms, and voice yet yoongi can’t figure out the itching feeling at the back of his brain. 

he hears yuna put her chopsticks down on the table. he readies himself to what she was going to say, chewing his food slowly as he anticipates what comes next. 

“do you want to try again?” 

he fantasized about this a lot of times–less when he met you but it was definitely there. it was the kind of fantasy that a person don’t tell anyone, the kind that one doesn’t allow oneself to feed into. but sometimes, when that person’s guard is down, it creeps in like a thief in the night, showing him his deepest desires.

“what?” yoongi freezes and looks up at her. 

her. time is kind on yuna. she grew into a woman that she always wanted to be. she achieved her dreams and never stopped for anyone. silently, yoongi is proud of her still.

i’ll let you go so you can find her again. your words in the letter creeps into his head. now, her is asking him back. he should feel ecstatic. it was all so confusing that it’s making him all angry. all that pain he caused you and he has the right to feel disappointment?

“we’re both single. we both changed. we weren’t perfect, yoongi. we were kids. we outgrew each other before but we can try again now.” yuna explains further, as if proposing a business deal. funny. wasn’t she a doctor?

but she was right. they outgrew each other. yoongi focused on his work and gave in to the pressure of being his father’s heir. slowly, the support that he promised her faded away. he became restless and anxious. all yuna wanted was to love him like they promised.

“why do you believe in me?” yuna asked as she lays on yoongi’s lap on the couch. multiple medical books laying around them. 

the memory was still fresh in their minds. yoongi had gone over his ways and helped her study, creating flashcards and powerpoint presentations for her reporting in class. 

yoongi caresses her hair, making her melt in his comfort. “because you give me strength.” he pauses, contemplating if his next words. “and i want more for you.”

although wealthy, yuna’s social status wasn’t in the same level as yoongi’s. her parents were doctors but her father died even before she met yoongi.  it’s her dream to be as good as her parents in the field of medicine. on the other hand, yoongi, heir to his father’s businesses, is just aiming to do well to please his father. 

is business his dream? no. he doesn’t think he has one. business has been planted on his mind since birth but yuna, he can see that she’s a dreamer. in this day and age, dreamers are rare. he wants to protect that of her. she didn’t ask him to but it’s his way of showing her he loves her.

“i love you.” she replies. “i always will. i mean it.” 

“i always will too.” 

“no. really! even if we break up, i think you will always have a place in my heart.” and yoongi smiles, loving the thought because he knows that his heart will do the same. 

“and i will always come back to you.” he says seriously, making yuna giggle in his hold.

“that’s cheesy.”

“whatever. i’m not kidding. so you can go ahead and fly how high you want. i’ll always wait for you.” 

in sales, there are commutative contracts, meaning the two parties participating give and receive equivalent values. but there is an exception which is aleatory contracts, which are basically sales of chance or hope. think of it like a purchase for a lottery ticket. you put money in without expecting anything in return but a tiny chance of hope. 

that was what yoongi was doing wrong. he’s been seeing his relationships like a commutative contract when it’s far from it. he thinks that true love should be give or take but it doesn’t have to be. sometimes, you just love unconditionally without expecting anything in return but a glimmer of hope. 

you loved him like that. like a fool, he thought he was giving you enough back. 

“what?” yuna urges when yoongi takes longer than usual to reply. “do you still love her?”

your face immediately flies to his mind. how were you doing? it’s been four months since the divorce was finalized. there hasn’t been contact with you since then. such a scandal shook everyone you knew. there wasn’t a clear reason how you explained the split. ‘our plans for the future don’t meet anymore so we have to go our separate ways’, is what the two of you agreed to say others. both of your parents weren’t exactly angry but they didn’t hide their disappointment. 

in those four months, yoongi buried himself in his work. he heard you’ve been doing the same. taehyung, his assistant, is in your friend group so he catches up through him. your project collaboration seemed to be doing well, he’s been hearing a lot about it lately. 

in the four years of his relationship with you, he did love you. he cared for you more than anyone else. you supported him in all his endeavors. you helped him pick himself back up. 

yuna was great. seven years of relationship wasn’t something you can just throw away. he still loves her and regrets the mistakes he made. if asked, he would still say that he will stop the world for her. people often say that usually, we don’t end up with the person we would stop the world for. he didn’t want that before. it had to be her. but now he understands.

it took four months of being separated from you and yuna in front of him for him to finally know the answer.

stopping the world for a person is impossible. you want a person that moves through the world with you and holds you through it. he wants to keep it spinning for you. 

“she made my world turn.” yoongi answered.

seated on the stool in front of the bar wasn’t something you expected to be this busy night. it all started when you forced information out of your friend, taehyung.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.” you eye taehyung as he sits besides you on your couch. 

taehyung, jimin, and jungkook came over in your house to hang for the night. they’ve been doing that a lot more than usual for the past four months. no one was saying anything but all of you were sure what was the reason for that. now, jimin and jungkook is passed out on the floor on the mattress for some reason while watching the movie.

his eyes widened and the popcorn he was catch in his mouth stops mid air and falls on his lap. he gives you a nervous smile and tilts his head. “your interior is kind of… ugly?” he blurts out, making your jaw drop and slapping his arm. 

“the fuck? you know what i’m talking about!” and he does. it’s probably not very healthy in your journey of moving on but you still ask taehyung about yoongi. when you were married, if there was someone else who knows about yoongi’s whereabouts, it was taehyung. he was your friend first before he was hired by yoongi. meaning, he was your ally. he told you of his schedules when you ask and helped you plan out dates with matching your schedules. 

taehyung doesn’t tell you much more than he should now that you’re not together but he still tells you when he thinks you need to hear it. there’s only one thing you ask of him to tell you even if it crosses boundaries. 

you have a great feeling that that’s about to happen tonight as taehyung has been avoiding your gaze since he came in. 

“he did it.” you concluded. 

taehyung drops his guard and nodded warily. you huff and look back at the television. 

he met with yuna.

unfortunately, namjoon was dragged in your misery. coming from your dinner meeting, just as you were about to leave, you bit the bullet and asked namjoon if he wanted to join you for some drinks. 

it was bound to happen. he’s no longer yours. still, you can’t help but be hurt. were they together now? does he hold her like he used to and give him his adorable gummy smile while they cuddle in bed? 

“another glass of this, please.” you say to the bartender. 

namjoon looks at you disapprovingly as he takes a sip on his cocktail, the same one he asked since you both arrived here. 

“why are you not drinking? you don’t even drive.” you ask him, a little bit buzzed. you’ve grown closer to the man due to your meetings that you can now call him a friend. 

namjoon’s cheeks raise, an amused smile forming on his face. he doesn’t answer your question and just shrugs. you gather you’re entertaining to him when you drink.

“why is it that you don’t drive? you have everything but a driver’s license.” you thank the bartender as he hands you your new glass of coke and rum. 

namjoon chuckles. “you don’t know this but i’m actually really clumsy.” 

“no way. you? you’re like really responsible and amazing and cool.” you slurred your words out like a kid, pouting and laying your head on the bar. 

namjoon grabs your shoulder, gently guiding you to sit up. “don’t lean your head. you’ll get drunk faster.” he advises. when you take his advice, he continues. “and you don’t know this because i put up a really good facade but i’m actually really clumsy.” he sighs to himself, tapping the bar with his long fingers. 

“what do you do when you’re outside and want to be truly alone then?” you ask, holding on to your glass. you don’t look at him when you ask this because the question was not solely for him. you ask the question for yourself.

“i bike.” he answers. you chuckle, amused. you picture a namjoon on his suit riding a bike because that’s the only namjoon you know. 

“i can hardly imagine kim namjoon, the famous ceo of kim enterprises, to be riding a bike.” you didn’t mean it in a bad way. namjoon has always been a humble elite, no matter how ironic that sounds. 

“i do it a lot actually. every morning.” 

“really?”

“really.”

“why do you like it?” you were like a kid asking these questions.

“i see a lot when i bike. people, trees, i can the feel the air hitting my face, the exhaustion from the exercise, it’s therapeutic.” he says it so genuinely. he really enjoys riding bikes. 

“sounds to me like you’re persuading me to bike too.” you tease for it really is tempting when it comes out from his mouth. this is probably why he gets so many investors.

“you can come with me.” he blurted out, making you look at him.

“i can?” 

he gives you that damned dimpled smile. “yeah. how about saturday morning?” 

you don’t think you have any important business on saturday morning and if you do, you’ll just have your secretary push it. you were too curious on what makes namjoon… namjoon to care. and again, you were a little bit buzzed.

“i’d like that.” you answer with a smile. 

you were tipsy but you’re not completely out of it to not realize why namjoon was doing this. from your miserable drinking to acting like a fool in front of him, you know he noticed your gloomy era. this was him trying to console you as a new friend and you appreciate that he doesn’t ask questions. 

drunk decisions are seldom good ideas. luck may be on your side this morning. the thing is, you never knew how therapeutic this was. but god, were you tired.

“do you not workout?” namjoon jeered when the both of you stop paddling for a while. he watched you pant excessively while glaring at him. 

“this is not the time to mock my physical unfitness.” you say through your pants. namjoon hands you his water tumbler because your dumbass forgot to bring one. before you grab it, he takes off the lid for you. you quickly mutter a thanks before drinking. 

“i just thought you were with that ass.” 

you almost spit out your drink, blush spreading your whole face more than the one caused by your exhaustion. did namjoon just admit he stares at your ass? 

before you even get the chance to reply, namjoon speeds off, leaving you to scream his name in protest. 

despite the expected exhaustion, you were glad you came with namjoon to his morning routine. you never realized this part of the city was so beautiful. you were someone who was driven everywhere since you were a kid and all the biking you had done past your teenage years are on the stationary bike at the gym you rarely go to. you never realized a change of transportation brings a different view of the city.

you don’t easily catch up with namjoon. it took him to slow down with his pedalling for you to be inline with him. when you were back to his side, slowly pedalling this time, he started to randomly give you the names and facts of the trees and plants you passed by. you found it adorable how much he knew about botany. it made sense how he goes out of his way more than other businessmen when it comes to the environment. although it’s a reality that capitalism and environmental care can hardly co-exist, you can see from his work that namjoon tries hard. 

“i’m not very good at things people are normally good at. when i feel that things are getting too tight, looking at art keeps me grounded. sometimes all you really need is a moment of pause or to step back and see the bigger picture.” 

you ask him more of his hobbies, learning more about namjoon was an unexpected delight. he is so different from his reputation. he’s actually pretty child-like and now you see why seokjin loves to take care of him even if people believe namjoon takes care of seokjin more. he tries cooking but he fails more than he succeeds. he often breaks a myriad of things. he’s scared of driving. it seemed to him that destruction follows him everywhere he goes and anything he does. except business. it’s the thing he’s good at. that, and growing his bonsais. 

besides biking and taking in nature, he’s an art appreciator of any form. 

“you get invitations to every museum in the country?” 

“yep. if you want to go to a specific one, i can get them for you.” he suggests. 

he has lead you to the riverside, stopping by to feel the air by the water. he leans on the railings as he drinks water. 

“hm. biking and now museums?” you tease, hinting something. you weren’t ignorant to what seokjin says about his brother. still, you never thought it to be serious before but now you were testing the waters. it’s not healthy to lead him on when you aren’t ready for another relationship.

he shakes his head. “i know what seokjin blabs about. but really, i’m just trying to be a friend.” he confesses. “for now.” he adds.

you take his answer as it is and not press further. you and your companion’s silence grows heavy for a while, not in an awkward way but rather a comforting one. the scenery in front of you pulls you in, as if to not worry about anything. 

it’s funny. you were always going on trips with yoongi, pulling him everywhere so you can create memories. your destinations were breathtakingly beautiful and known worldwide. you took pictures here and there but you don’t think you looked as much as you did now. why is it a river, one you see in your city everyday, is making you feel more than the wonders of the world?

it’s because in front of those landmarks, ocean, tourist spots, you see him in the front lines. loving yoongi is a privilege you will forever be thankful for. and if you were asked, you will do it all over again. 

“do you know why yoongi and i didn’t work out?”

the raised brows on his face meant he didn’t expect the question. he purses his lips and shakes his head. “i only know what you’ve said to the others.” 

“there really wasn’t much reason.” you tell him. “he actually was a pretty great husband, more than most of us can ask for.” 

you began telling him the story and he listens attentively all throughout, nodding from time to time. whether it’s because of his comforting presence or the beautiful scenery, you don’t know why you spilled everything to him. regardless, you don’t think it’s something you will regret. 

when you were done, he speaks. “it seemed he really loves you.”

what? “do you think i’m stupid for letting him go?” 

“no, i meant from the outside. from my sight, it seemed he really loves you.” 

“why do you think that?”

he takes a few second to answer, deep in thought. “i don’t know. call it intuition.” namjoon answers with a shrug. 

you roll your eyes. “and who made your intuition reliable?” 

“all of kim enterprise’ success.” he answers smugly. 

you huff. “show off.” 

“ha. i’m kidding. no ceo is great due to intuition alone.” 

“yeah, shut up.” 

you don’t know what namjoon was truly thinking, or perhaps, it’s truly intuition. your mind brings you back to when yoongi handed to you the signed papers.

the atmosphere in your previous home grows heavy and quiet as he puts down the papers previously in his hand. your eyes glower at the pieces of paper.

“so… this is it, huh.” you chuckle bitterly as you stare at his signature. 

you were seated across from each other at the dining table in your penthouse. yoongi in his lounge wear while you went straight from work. 

he doesn’t answer, forearms rested on the table. his slouched form made him look smaller in your eyes. 

“i have one question.” you confessed, one that was lingering in your mind for a long time. 

you don’t wait for his affirmation and continue. “how many things…” you inhaled. “how many things do you think about before you get to me?” he looks up at you, now looking into your eyes. “all those times you looked at me and saw her, do you even get to me?” 

“because for me, i find ways to see you anywhere–the real you.” you continue. you don’t cry but you wanted to. but your body doesn’t allow you to cry. it’s as if there was something about baring yourself in front of someone isn’t something sad or worth crying for. it’s powerful. 

“i won’t do it for long, though. i promise you.” you say and you mean it.

the two of you sat there in the dark, sitting with nothing to hear but the beat of your hearts. it all boils down to this. the two of you not moving, feeling each other out. there was no certain next move for either of you. two years of relationship and two years of marriage, abruptly cut. this is the last time you sit together as husband and wife. 

“i’ll do the same.” he finally speaks. “i promise.”

your hand slowly creeps into his and holds it. his other hand goes over yours. the kiss of his touch pulls you in but you let yourself go. 

you are letting him go. 

more than a past lover, yuna was his best friend. he was spending most his days with her, learning what changed and what stayed with each other. today, he was having lunch with her at the hospital she transferred to from the states. 

“she sounds wonderful.” yuna was genuine with her words as he told her about you. 

“yeah. i was never lonely when i was with her.” yoongi agreed. yuna gives him a smile. 

“how about you? were you lonely?” yoongi asked her. 

“it’s hard not to be when we’re at this age and single.” yuna cracked a joke. 

yoongi shakes his head, finding her words true. “you’ll find someone soon.” 

“i have to now because you heartlessly rejected me.” yuna lightly stabs the fish on her plate. 

yoongi chuckles but gives her a look. “i know. i know. i’m kidding.” she saves herself.

yoongi was glad yuna was back. he does love her a lot. it took them six years to finally say what they want to each other. they both had their faults and all are forgiven.

yoongi’s regret is that he couldn’t support her but in reality, they were supposed to grow apart to grow. it would never have worked out even if they did try. and even if they could try again, it was not the same. 

they didn’t love each other anymore.

yoongi was in love with the thought of her and the thought of the boy he used to be. yuna was someone he supported with all of him. he did good. and he wanted to do better for you. that’s why he tried his best to please you. but it was exhausting him and he didn’t even know it. 

his fault is that he got blindsided and forgot himself. internally and even if he wouldn’t admit it, he blamed you for it. so his mind started going back to how it all started which is yuna. he started comparing her to you and started seeing her in you. but he was too much of a coward to be alone to acknowledge it. it was all an endless cycle and he’s the problem. 

“i know it’s been 8 months since the divorce, you know you can try again with her, right?” 

the obvious answer was yes, he can approach you again. you can start again, he can go on his knees and beg you to take him back. but the first  question is, will you accept him? and the next, should he? what if he just brings chaos to your life again? he doesn’t really want to bother you anymore.

“hey, hoseok!” 

yuna calls someone behind yoongi. he turns his head to find a doctor who waves back at her. in his hands is a tray of food just like the one in front of him on the table. 

“hey yuna. hey good looking stranger.” the man radiates good and happy energy as he approached the two of you. this is the first time he has seen a doctor this happy. yuna opens a chair for him beside her asking him to take a seat. he accepts the offer and sits down.

“hoseok, meet yoongi. yoongi, meet hoseok. i have a feeling that you two will get along.” 

yoongi gives him a respectful smile and nod as he chews his food, not so cheery with meeting new people. “you can call me hobi.” 

“wait, wait, wait.” hoseok rests his elbows on the table and leans in. “are you like, that ceo yoongii?”

yuna’s smile widens. “hold up, you know him?” 

“hell yeah, i’m friends with kim namjoon. he’s a ceo too. do you know him?” 

oh.

him.

he’s been hearing a lot about you two. it really is a small world, isn’t it?

“i’m familiar with him, yes.” yoongi answers. 

hoseok nods. “yeah, we’ve been friends since i was busk dancing by the river during my pre-med days. we haven’t hung out in a while much since i got a bit busy with shifts but i think i saw you once or twice in the business section of the news.” 

“that’s nice. hey, you’re kind of famous.” yuna adds in. 

“namjoon’s a great guy and an even better ceo.” yoongi agrees. 

“yeah, if you want we can all hang together. it’ll be a boys night out.” hoseok suggests. 

yuna huffs, stabbing her fish once again. that poor dead fish, yoongi thinks. “y’all met two minutes ago and you’re already planning things without me?” 

hoseok laughs, loud. “oh you’re right. it’s fine, you can come too. namjoon will probably want to bring his girlfriend anyway.” 

it’s like yoongi’s hearing got better than usual as his ears were all in when he heard hoseok’s last sentence. “girlfriend?” he couldn’t possible mean…

“yeah, he’s been dating this girl y/n who he worked with. he’s been bringing her to his morning bike rides which is like a big deal because he never does that. and if he’s not busy with work, he’s like bringing her to museums for the past four months and stuff. that’s also one of the reasons we haven’t had time to see each other. but he promised we would hang soon.” 

yoongi and yuna froze as soon as they heard your name. yoongi couldn’t even take in the next words hoseok rambled on after your name. hoseok kept talking and talking and all he can think about is you in namjoon’s arms.

he felt his heart go up his throat. 

his chest physically hurt. 

time froze for him. he doesn’t even notice yuna pinching hoseok and whispering something to him. hoseok’s eyes widened as he says sorry repeatedly.

he was bound to find out this way because since you both signed those papers, he was just another has-been person in your life; an outsider, if you will. if there was someone who he wanted for you, it would be namjoon. namjoon is the perfect guy for you. it was expected but it still hurt.

yoongi’s chair screeches against the floor as he stands up, his eyes gloomy and head down. 

“it was nice meeting you, hoseok. but i think i have somewhere to be now.” he says and hoseok nods, saying sorry again. 

“yuna.” he acknowledges her too as a form of goodbye.

“yeah, drive safe. i’ll text you later.” he nods at her and walks away, making his way home. a home without you. 

“jungkook, jimin, what are you doing here?” 

your best friend’s round twinkling eyes meets your tired ones as you entered your apartment. you shouldn’t have trusted him with your lock’s passcode. jimin is just focused on playing.

“jin and jimin wanted to try the new ps5 game and your tv is so much better than mine.” jungkook explains as he turns his eyes back to the screen in front of him.

“that’s dumb. you’re both rich and seokjin literally has a game room at home.” you replied with a straight face as you kick your shoes off. 

“or maybe he just wanted to see how you were doing because he says you don’t hang out with your best friend anymore.” jin appears in your view with a water bottle in hand, giving you a teasing smirk as jungkook pouts.

“he’s jealous of namjoon.” jimin whispers in an obnoxiously loud way, purposely letting the younger man playing in front of the television to hear.

jungkook doesn’t deny or acknowledge what he heard and just huffs in annoyance. although you and jungkook were the same age, he often acts like a stubborn younger brother. 

“why don’t you hang out with us next time, then?” you suggest, stepping in your living room and tossing your hand bag next to jungkook on the couch. 

jungkook’s eyes widens but still doesn’t stray from the game. “i can do that?”

“why not?” jimin speaks for you when he sees your confused face.

jungkook finally looks at you standing then at seokjin who was now sitting next to him, now amused at the reaction on your faces. he leans back, his back meeting the couch rest. 

“w-well, i kind of thought– nevermind.” 

“you thought what?” you press on, raising a brow.

“that they were like, y’know…” jungkook scratches the back of his head. 

it takes him a while to continue so seokjin does it for him. “dates.”

it was your eyes’ time to widen at the assumption, arms dropping in defense. “w-what? they were not dates!”

“i told you so.” jimin teases. jungkook glares at him. “to be fair, joonie told me they were not dates and i told him that too.”

“i’ve just been in a divorce. how would that make me look? how would that make namjoon and i look?” you groan before turning to head to your room.

you left your two friends arguing about their game in the living room while you freshen up. in the shower, you thought about yoongi. it’s been eight months. when is it okay for a divorcee to move on to another relationship? is there a definite time of moving on that would be deemed respectable to your previous one? have you moved on? will you move on enough to be open to date? 

has yoongi moved on?

has he ever loved you enough to be someone he had to get over to?

you like to think that you were someone important in his life but you really wanted to be someone who made a dent on his like she used to. maybe that way, there would be a constant reminder of you in his life even now that you were gone. 

is that bad? to wish you hurt him like she did?

knocks on your bedroom door snaps you out of your thoughts. you shout, letting the person know they can come in while you do your skincare routine. 

“yo.” jungkook steps in, throwing up a random gang sign. 

“what do you want now?” you feigned annoyance as he throws himself on your bed. his back rests on your headboard.

“i can’t check on my best friend now?” he crosses his arms and pouts. 

you scoff and ignore the rhetorical question. “how’s taehyung?”

“my other best friend is completely fine, thank you.” he answers, childlike sass lacing his voice. 

“i don’t think anyone associated with you is ever completely fine.” you raise your brows.

your best friend huffs, offended and now sitting to face you at the side of the bed. “you just want to know how your ex-husband’s doing. you can just ask me without asking taehyung. he’s my friend too.”

you tap your face one last time as you finish the last step of your routine, letting the product air dry as you face jungkook. “fine. how is he then?” 

you hadn’t prepared yourself for the answer.

“i heard he’s seeing someone.” jungkook responded, eyes now heavy with seriousness. 

you gulped, shoulder slumping and you don’t respond to your best friend. 

he’s seeing someone? was it yuna? did they finally found each other’s arms? did he give her his gummy smile as he kissed her, telling her he had only truly loved her? did he sweep her off her feet with how long he have waited for her? 

“i’m sorry. are you okay?” your best friend’s face written with worry as he asked you. 

“is it yuna?” if it’s her, it’s okay. at least, you know he’ll truly be happy if it’s her.

“i don’t know. i only asked him if he’s doing better when i saw him at the bar one time. he said yes because he’s seeing someone now.” you nod. 

jungkook bits his lip as he sees your stunned state but continues. “i didn’t want to tell you but… you seem happy with namjoon. so if you think can move on now… i think it’s okay.”

is it? can you really go forward with your life? do you even want to?

“get up!”

yoongi was awaken by a thud on his stomach. when his eyes fluttered open, he finds yuna holding one of his pillow, threatening to hit him again with it. 

“fuck. what are you doing here at this hour?” he complains when he looks at the time. five in the morning isn’t exactly an ideal time for a guest in his home. 

“shut up. get ready. we’re leaving in ten minutes.” 

he doesn’t know what happened after those words. yuna basically dragged his corpse to do a morning routine and when that was done, he found himself sitting on the passenger’s seat of yuna’s car. 

“where the fuck are we even going?” he says with close eyes. 

yuna doesn’t answer and drove quietly. yoongi was too sleepy to press further or complain. instead, he let himself drift back to sleep as the cold temperature of the vehicle and the comforting scene of the morning lulled him back to it.. 

when yuna shakes him awake, he finds himself in a familiar place.

“why are we here?” 

it was his and yuna’s university. yoongi hasn’t been here in a while. he admires the buildings that have aged well, if not hasn’t changed at all.  “i was invited to a talk here later.” 

“and?”

“i just thought you’d like to see it again.” yuna shrugged.

yuna led him to the field where they sat on one of the bleachers. there was not much people except for a few that were on their morning jog. how could there be? he doubts there’s a class at 6am. 

the cold morning air fights against his thick maroon sweater that he threw on this morning. yuna and him sits in silence, letting the nostalgic view fill their thoughts instead of words. 

“remember when we were kids?” yuna breaks the silence after a while “we had so many dreams.” 

“i didn’t have much, really.” he scoffs. 

“don’t say that.” yuna complains softly.

“what? it’s true.”

“no. i mean it. you’ve always downplayed your dreams. you had dreams.” yuna says seriously. 

yoongi doesn’t answer. did he have dreams for himself? all he wanted was to become what his parents expected from him. yuna, however, had dreams for herself. she was determined to be a doctor even when all the odds were against her. that was the dream. he wanted to fulfill that for her.

some nights were like this. 

“i don’t think I can do this.” yuna is breaking down on the bed with yoongi trying to calm down his girlfriend and roommate on his chest. she really is a smart girl but sometimes, it all just pents up inside and she couldn’t help but burst. 

this is when Yoongi would come to her rescue. yoongi chuckles as he wipes her tears away. he doesn’t say anything at first and lets her cry in his arms. he lets the comfort of his warmth do the job of calming her. 

yoongi loved the thought of being in service to the ones he loves. especially her. he loves how he is her anchor and how she immediately runs to him whenever she sees him. it’s like they were each other’s person. 

“if you can’t do it anymore, then don’t.” yoongi suggests, looking down at her teared up swollen eyes that’s looking at him.

“what? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you. i think.” yoongi suggests some more. 

yuna pouts. “okay, rich kid. I don’t accept hand overs.” 

he snorts. “they wouldn’t be handovers if you’re my wife.” 

yuna freezes in his hold. “wife?” If her cheeks were red from crying or blushing, yoongi wasn’t sure but he do hope it’s the latter.

yoongi raises a brow. “yes, wife.” 

he could see her hold back her smiles and bites her lips instead. “hm.”

“what you smiling for?” Yoongi teases.

“nothing. that’s oddly comforting but I think I’ll go back to studying now.” yuna giggles before jumping off the bed. she wasn’t wearing anything but his shirt and panties and from his spot in the bed, he could see her ass very well. 

“is this you rejecting my suggestion?” yoongi smirks and places his arm beside his head, raising his line of view. 

“It’s very very tempting, mr. min. I’ll tell you that.” she turns to him from her seat and continues. “make that suggestion a proposal at the right time and i’ll get back to you.” 

“my dream was you.” he blurted out. 

neither of them were looking at each other but their presence screams louder than any sight could ever behold. they were completely open to each other. 

“and that destroyed you.” 

“it didn’t. you did. when you left.” 

it must’ve been the wind. or the exhaustion. or the way the university still feels the same as it did years ago. there was no bitterness, no pain, no longing, just the plain, old, truth.

“seven years. you just threw it away like that. why?” 

no voice was raising. if someone was to look at them, they would think they’re just having a casual morning conversation, not baring themselves to each other. 

“because you never had the guts to do it.” 

yoongi couldn’t answer. 

“you never had the guts to say you were tired. you just gave and gave and gave. you were chipping away and you didn’t even notice. instead, you got angry at yourself. you got exhausted. and i know you blamed me but you never showed it to me. maybe you didn’t even realize it yourself that you blamed me. you just sealed it all away so you could be there for me.”

“and even when i broke up with you, you never fought for me to stay. because you were disappointed in yourself even when i told you over and over that it was not your fault. you didn’t have the guts and you still don’t have it now.” 

yoongi grips the edge of the bleachers. “why are you saying this?” 

“i’m saying i’m sorry.” 

“for what?”

“i’m sorry i didn’t built you up like i should’ve. i’m sorry because i expected more from you. i was angry because i thought that you loved me less because you didn’t give me as much time as you did… but you shouldn’t have to choose me over yourself.” she takes his hand beside her and puts it in her grasp. 

“you came!” 

yoongi appears with a bouquet of flowers at the backstage of the auditorium. yuna had just presented her research that was chosen by the professors and doctors. 

it really was a surprise because yoongi was already busy with his master’s degree and learning the business with his father. the last time yuna had something as big as this, yoongi had missed it. he never forgave himself as yuna was more than disappointed with that happening.

and that’s why when yoongi checks his phone that night, he could see the number of miscalls from his friends and father. he ignores them and goes back to sleeping beside his lover.

not knowing that she was looking at his screen the whole time and realizing she isn’t good for him anymore.

she peppered kisses on the back of his hand. “it was never your fault and i’m okay now. i’ve reached my dreams and you had too. even if you say your dreams wasn’t a sob story like mine, they were still dreams… and i am so so proud of you.” 

“you look so handsome!” yoongi’s mom squeals as she takes a picture of yoongi on his graduation gown. 

yoongi gives her a peace sign, but his eyes search around for only one person. 

“she should be coming soon, son. didn’t you tell me she had to be at the hospital today? and we still have dinner.” 

they didn’t understand. he wanted her here at his moment of success–a milestone and she wasn’t here. 

yoongi watches as she caresses his hand. “i’m sorry for hurting you and i want you to know that i release you from that promise. i’m here now. you don’t have to wait for me anymore. it’s my turn to support you.” 

“all the pain we’ve caused each other, all these years… i’ve thought of you and loved you. they weren’t for nothing because even when you weren’t there for me anymore, your support is what i carried on. you made me who i am, yoongi. i will always be thankful for that and i will always love you just like i promised.” 

“what do you want me to do?” yoongi looks up at the sky, preventing the tears wetting his eyes from falling.

“i think you know what you want to do.” yuna smiles. 

still looking up, yoongi cages his lower lip with his teeth, nodding in reply.

yoongi is rarely nervous. 

but here he stands in front of a closed door, palms sweating. he hoped the paper in his right hand isn’t affected by it.

he hears a ding inside and the lock of the door click, indicating that it’s gone unlocked. he braces himself for the person coming out.

it’s now or never. 

you open the door to the person that’s been on your mind for days, for weeks, for months. 

yoongi was in front of you, paper bag in hand. 

he was wearing his casual clothes, a plain pullover and sweat pants. he gave you his cheeky smile. “hi.”

you couldn’t believe you eyes and you take a minute to finally realize the situation you were in. you shake your head to bring yourself back. “h-hi! w-what are you doing here?” 

yoongi was still standing there awkwardly and raised the paper bag in his right hand. “i brought you cheesecake. can i come in?” 

“yes. i suppose you can.” you answer, unsure what was his agenda with his visit. you move out of the doorway, letting him inside your home. 

this wasn’t your home and he had never been here before. still, he heads to the kitchen and gets all the needed utensils for the cake. he places them on your dining table, servicing you like he used to when he cooked for you.

you watched as he moved in your home as if a divorce never happened. yoongi was just like this, you think. he was just genuinely caring. one of his love languages had always been acts of service. 

“eat. this one’s your favorite.” he had cut up a slice for you already. 

he didn’t even prepare one for himself. 

“what about you?” you ask. 

“i won’t take long.” he continues. “i think.” 

you sit down in front of the plate with the slice, taking a fork and a small piece of the cake. you know he wouldn’t let you talk if you haven’t eaten what he prepared. when you chewed the sweet piece of dessert in your mouth, you couldn’t deny you hated it. you loved it and he could see that, you were sure with the smile he was giving.

“why are you here again?” you finally ask. 

“i just have one question.” he answers taking a sit beside you at the head of the table. you take in how much he has changed over the months. his hair was longer now it was needing pins to hook on his hair, and it was so so fluffy. 

you take a piece in your mouth again, nodding. “yeah, sure.” 

you weren’t really expecting the next words to come out of his mouth.

“are you happy dating namjoon?” 

you were glad cheesecake isn’t a very chokeable kind of food because if it was, you would be fighting for your life right now. instead, you froze and look at him with wide eyes. 

you don’t answer quick.

are you dating namjoon?

no, right?

there wasn’t a label established like that. but it’s obvious that something’s going on between the two of you. 

and you like namjoon. he was sweet, insightful, and loveable. he was a good friend and would be an even better boyfriend. 

“i…” you trail off your words, never having to said the words out loud before. you never thought it would be in front of your ex-husband, either. 

“i like him.” you finally say.

you could literally see yoongi’s shoulder slump and his face fall. but he still smiles. he gives you a pained one and does the thing where he scratches the back of his with his pointer finger. “heh. i guess i’m a little late now, aren’t i?”

“w-what are you talking about?” you ask, genuinely confused if you’re getting the right idea.

“i’m saying i’ve gone a little late at winning you back.” his head lowers, not meeting your eyes.

your brows furrow. “aren’t you seeing someone? yuna?”

it was his turn to be confused. “no? yuna and i are just friends now.” 

“but jungkook said you said you were seeing someone? at the bar?” you point out.

“oh. that was my therapist. i’m seeing a therapist.” he explained and your mouth forms an ‘o’. what the fuck jungkook, you think. 

“okay, wow. misunderstandings. okay. sorry. jungkook was being dumb.” you chuckled and drink from your glass of water. 

“does that change things?” yoongi speaks up. he gulps before continuing. “me not dating anyone?” 

his eyes bore into yours as he awaits the answer. you think about it carefully.

does it change things? he is available now and he wanted you back. clearly, things have been going well for him. he was just friends with yuna and has been seeing a therapist. he was doing better. 

but is that enough for you to risk getting hurt again? is him saying he wants you back enough for you to accept him again? well, he does say i love you to your face everyday while thinking of someone else entirely before. 

does taking the risk involve waiting for him? you can’t just wait for him again like before–wait for him to see you, to look at you, to love you. 

he was doing better but he isn’t better enough for you to take him back. 

frankly, you don’t think you could get hurt anymore. you don’t want to put yourself in that position anymore. if you do, you feel like you’ll lose yourself in hoping. you can’t just wait for him forever.

you can’t help but be scared to fall back to him again. what he is over you is the love you have for him but what you have over yourself is the decision you make.

even if he offers himself to you in bare, you had that choice for yourself. 

“no.” you answer firmly. “i still like joon.”

you thought namjoon only gets invited to museum’s inside the country. turns out, the man was an art connoisseur from around the world.

jungkook and jimin was dragged along with you to paris. your best friend acted like he didn’t want to be here but proved himself otherwise when his eyes sparkle at everything he sees in the city. he does have a hidden love for art and painting. jimin, on the other hand, is loved by the locals here, which is very rare for paris. one artist was so mesmerized by him that you think he’s practically his muse now. you won’t be surprised if you see your friend’s face in one of these museums in the future. 

you only ever attend museums because they are one of the disguised ways for business people to socialize and mask it as some art appreciating good time. rich people who don’t give a flying fuck about these paintings only use them to flex and flaunt their wealth.

but here, namjoon talks to you in every painting, sometimes just staring at them with you. it’s really amazing how he knows so much about these artists and their art. 

how does he store all those information? you literally didn’t even need the guide.

“this one’s famous for his dotting.” he points to the one in front of you. jungkook reacts about how sick the drawing is or something like that and you just agree. whatever your companions were saying, you just tune it out.

it wasn’t that you don’t care about the paintings or something like that. it’s just that your feet were killing you. you weren’t informed that this museum is literally so freaking huge. you had been walking this madness for two hours and you should’ve worn your white sneakers instead. 

and just like all times, namjoon notices. he always does. 

“hey, you okay?” joon asks as he looks down at your unresting feet as you shift on one foot to another repeatedly. “does your feet hurt?” 

“no, i’m fine. let’s finish the tour.” you lie through your teeth.

namjoon sighs and looks over at jungkook. “can you guys wait here?” jungkook agrees and namjoon leaves in a hurry. no doubt about to do something about your feet. 

“why did you wear heels, anyway?” jungkook asks, a little bit judging. jimin smacks the back of his head. “because this was their date!” 

jungkook’s hand flies to the area on his head. “if this was a date, why are we here?”

“because you asked to come with to the museum like a dumbass.” jimin rolled his eyes. 

jungkook raises a brow. “well if this was a date, why did namjoon insist we come with? and pay for our flight and hotel and stuff?” 

it was jimin’s turn to be doubtful, and he looks over to you who was just listening to the conversation. the two wait for you for confirmation.

“don’t look at me. i don’t know why he asked too.” you shrug. 

it was true. namjoon did ask you to a date trip in paris. he literally labeled it a date so you were a bit confused when he told you to bring some friends. 

the three of you stand in silence after, quietly admiring the artworks in the room. 

a few minutes later, namjoon comes back with paper bags in hand. he guided you to sit at one of the stoned backless benches in the middle of the room. jimin and jungkook continues the tour on their own.

he brings out a box of sneakers, beige ones that complement your nude outfit. he also brings out bandages for your feet. he starts to kneel down in front of you and you scramble to pull him up. 

“no, no. i can do it myself.” you argue, making namjoon stop mid-air. 

he chuckles and that damned dimpled smile comes out. “can you just let me do this for you?” he raises his brows and you sigh. 

“fine.” you back down and he proceeds kneel down. 

he began putting bandages on the areas you needed. he asks you if you needed more and you shake your head.

“well, would you look at that? it’s a perfect fit.” namjoon says when your foot slips in the sneakers. you smile, looking down at the beautiful man in front of you. he slips the other one in and does the shoelaces. 

when he was done, he pats your foot and stands up. “why don’t you take a walk and see, cinderella?”

you giggle. you giggle like a school girl and stand up. the sneakers were far more comfortable than your heels as you walk. “they’re perfect, thank you.”

namjoon nods. “anything for you, babe.”

the rest of the trip flows easily. jimin and jungkook chose to be away from the two of you after the museum and namjoon brings you to a restaurant for dinner. two days later, you were heading back to korea.

namjoon sits beside you in first class and you were having a glass of champagne.

“thank you.” you start, fingers playing with your glass. “for this date trip, really.”

namjoon bites his lower lip and nods. “thank you too.”

“i just have one question, though.” you tilt your head to the side and purse your lips.

“yeah, what is it?” namjoon replies.

“why bring jimin and jungkook if this was a date?” you look over by the middle section of first class where jungkook and jimin were probably fast asleep. you wouldn’t know because there were privacy dividers. but you were definitely sure because of how hard they partied last night and how wrecked they’ve come back to the hotel.

“well, a little birdy told me something about you and flights.” namjoon explains and you were at a loss for words. how did he know about your fear of flying? was it seokjin?

“remember what i said?” namjoon speaks again, and you furrow your brows at the sudden question.

“what exactly?”

“when you told me why you and yoongi got a divorce.” you freeze. that was months ago. why was he bringing it up now?

“oh. that.” he was talking about how he thinks yoongi still loves you.

“i told you it was just intuition because i didn’t have proof.”

you take a sip of your drink and set it down again. “okay… then why are you bringing it up now?”

“because i have one now.” he fishes something from the inside of his jacket and you follow his hands with your eyes.

he hands you a white envelope. you warily accept it and observe it with your keen eyes. “what’s this?” it doesn’t look special but whatever it is, it had a relation to yoongi.

“it’s a letter. i want you to read it when we land home.” namjoon states the obvious.

“i had a really fun time, y/n. thank you.” he gives you his dimpled smile again. this time, there was no denying the hint of sadness in them.

whatever that was, it sounded like a goodbye.

namjoon suddenly changes the topic, whisking you away from the loud thoughts. you quickly hide the envelope in your pocket. you had a feeling that you want to give namjoon all your attention right now.

the flight back consisted of sleeping, talking, eating, and laughing with namjoon.

you both undeniably had a great time and you wouldn’t exchange the experience with anyone.

“so, this is it.” namjoon says as the both of you stand in front of the airport, staring at the streets where it is raining.

“thank you, joon. paris was a dream with you.” you say genuinely.

he gives you a genuine smile this time, nodding once in acknowledgement.

“but it would’ve been perfect if we kissed.” you blurt out.

namjoon grins and shakes his head. he steps closer and places a hand on your face. your lips met and they move softly against each other. his lips were soft, but a little bit on the rough side. the smell of his faint perfume, the cold skin from the airconditioned airport, the curve of his dimple in your hands, and the tingling feeling in your chest, it was all giving a different kind of warmth from the kisses you had in your life time.

he releases you not long after, looking at you longingly.

he steps back again, widening the space between the two of you back to how it was before. “that was perfect.” he says and chuckles. you nod, “yeah. it was.”

“well, i’ll see you around, y/n.”

“you will.”

now that was, for sure, a goodbye.

back home, the paper on your hand suddenly feels heavy and you were anxious to see what’s inside. but curiosity overpowers the anxiety and you open the envelope to see the letter containing it. 

the folded paper you bring out had a ‘for your eyes only, kim’, written on the corner. your eyes widen. the writing was too familiar for you not to know who this letter is from. 

mr. kim namjoon,

before i start with anything, first, i want to say congratulations on the relationship. well, i’m not happy for you but it’d be rude to say that. second, i’m sorry if my writing turns sloppy. i pondered doing this in email but it didn’t felt heartfelt enough. now that i think about it, i think the last letter i’ve written like this was to my parents after being forced in high school in one of those stupid english homeworks. so again, sorry if it’s bad. maybe i should’ve written y/n one of these letters, i guess that’s just another mistake i have to regret. but enough about me, this letter is about her. 

i know that we’re not the best of pals, and i swear that i’m not doing this for you. i’m doing this for her. i may not be in the position to be this demanding but all i want for her now is to be in good and better hands. i need you to be that person now that you have her. 

the first time i saw her wearing our ring, it was the turning point of my life. after that, she was every day of my life. and i took it for granted. i didn’t hold her the way she needed to be held. i didn’t look her like i should. 

so now that you’re about to be her everyday—her person. i only ask you to hear these things that may be helpful. i may not be a good lover but i was an okay husband. i didn’t love her right but i still knew her and took care of her for four years. 

she likes iced coffee in the morning from a very specific shop but if you make one for her, it’ll be her favorite because it’s you. she used to like it with lots of milk but strong caffeine. on nights she stays up for work, she prefers warm tea. lots of it. have it ready in a pot beside her. she loves midnight cookies too. the chewy ones. 

when she has her period, buy her chocolates. not the fruity ones. she prefers the dark chocolates but won’t say no to milky ones. she doesn’t like white chocolates. nuts are okay too. no raisins. she hates raisins whenever and wherever you put it. 

she loves spicy food but it will make her sneeze a lot after. she’s a bit allergic to shellfish, especially shrimps but she will still eat them because she’s stubborn. please always have medicine in stock. 

she likes shopping for new dresses when there’s an occasion but loves it if you come with her and help her choose. you have to react really well. but you don’t really have to try because she’ll look good even with a garbage bag anyway. she’s very meticulous about clothes too. one faulty sewing and she’ll see that.

she doesn’t like people who chew loudly or talk with their mouths full. i don’t think anyone does anyway.

she watches the same movies over and over again but she will cry over it as hard as she did last time. she doesn’t like when people talk too much on movie night but that doesn’t mean you don’t react at the scenes. if it was a horror movie and she seemed a bit freaked out at the end, leave a dim light open when you sleep. let her hung to you when you sleep too. 

when she has to fly out of the country for work, if you can’t go with her, make sure jungkook is there. she won’t admit it but she still gets scared when flying alone even if her secretary’s with her. it has to be someone she trusts.

she loves when you smell good. so choose your perfume well. 

remind her of her keys or wallet because she keeps forgetting them. when you ask her to buy something, you have to tell her at least three times. don’t just say it like “oh hey can you buy me this when you go out?”, she won’t remember it. 

she shits a lot. her metabolism is amazing, really. 

she makes a face when you say she’s beautiful. sometimes, she even glares. but still, tell her she’s beautiful. because she will. she thinks and says you’re more beautiful than anyone else. 

she loves more than anyone and she deserves to be loved more. even if you look through her eyes and see someone else, she will still love you endlessly. she loves so pure like an amateur magician, even if everyone else can see the trap door, she continues her show with a smile. 

when she loves you, her plans don’t matter as much. because when she loves you, you are her plan. so you have to remind her to make plans for herself too. don’t make her drop everything for you.

when she loves you, even if you don’t give her what she gives you, she will still love you. even if she searches all the corners of the earth just so she can find a bench that fits the two of you perfectly, she will. she would make jokes that make you laugh when you’re down. she would stay up all night learning a recipe if you say you want that dish.

these are just some of the things you have to keep in mind. but really, it doesn’t matter. because when she loves, she gives it her all. it’s not hard to fall in love with her. there’s no doubt about it. 

i used to think that loving should be passionate and overflowing. now i realize that love shouldn’t be burning, it should be just warm. the kind of warmth that a thick blanket gives you in winter. the warmth that a newly baked chocolate chip cookie offers you when you get home tired. the kind that gives you comfort, never hurting you. so, i ask you to give her more than what she gives. love her like she’s home. 

it may be too late for me but not for her. she deserves to be loved more than yesterday, but less than tomorrow. please continue to love her. more than i do. more than anyone else. 

min yoongi.

the thing is, the heart doesn’t have a specific size. it isn’t only filled with one person. yoongi has been receiving all your love and he began filling it with you. after yuna’s and his closure at the university, yoongi knew what he had to do. 

the drive back to his house after yuna’s talk in the university was fast. he called up taehyung as soon as he got home.

“i need you to get me kim namjoon’s address.” he orders before taehyung could even greet him. 

“hello to you too, sir. his personal address, sir? that’s kind of unethical.” taehyung teased. he ignores his secretary although he had a point. 

“i don’t give a fuck, tae. get to work.” with that, he ends the call. he admits it was a little bit rude but whatever. he needs his address. 

after preparing everything, yoongi sees taehyung had texted him the address an hour ago. he grabs a coat from his closet and heads off. 

he was greeted by maids when he arrived and ruined the doorbell button with his unending pressing. they allowed him through the gate but didn’t let him through the doors of the house. he was asked to wait by the small garden in front of the house

the exterior of namjoon’s home was very modern and green, trees and plants surrounding it. you probably loved the different kinds of plants here. the flowers too. yoongi never cared about these things. 

yoongi is rarely nervous. 

but here he stands in front of a closed door, palms sweating. he hoped the paper in his right hand isn’t affected by it.

the letter. 

he hears a ding inside and the lock of the door click, indicating that it’s gone unlocked. he braces himself for the person coming out.

it’s now or never. 

yoongi was shaken awake by the sound of his doorbell being rang multiple times and there was unending banging on his door. he realizes that he his friends has a knack of being waking him in the middle of the night when the country is in deep sleep.

god, who and what is it now? he thinks to himself. 

yoongi pushes himself off the bed and heads to his door. barely even having his eyes open, he peeks at who was at the door on his security camera. 

he was pretty sure he was dreaming right now with what he’s seeing.

he was pretty sure because that couldn’t be you, drenched in what seemed to be rain. your hair was sticking to your face and you look you had been somewhere before this. 

he scrambles to open the door, now seeing you in the flesh. your brows were furrowed together and your cheeks were puffed. your face wasn’t just wet from rain, you had been crying. 

before he could even ask what you were doing here or even just speak, you throw something in his direction which he caught and clutched to his chest. he looks down and sees a familiar paper in his hand. 

“w-what–”

“what’s this?” her voice was laced with venom, beautiful but incredibly pissed. 

yoongi sighed. “you weren’t supposed to see this.” 

you shake your head, stepping inside and slamming the door behind you. “no, but i did! so you tell me why!”  

“tell you what?” 

“why namjoon?”  

“what do you mean–”

“you told this to namjoon but not me? you pour your heart out to him but not me?” you were no longer yelling. instead, your voice was at the verge of breaking. 

you push him by his chest repeatedly when he doesn’t answer. “what is it? tell me!”

he stops your hands with his, caging your wrists in his grasp. “stop! i’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

you tug your wrists from him and stare at him with fire in your eyes. “i’m asking you to tell me why you couldn’t tell me you wanted me and why. i’m asking you why you push yourself around.” 

“i’m giving you what you said you want. you like namjoon and he deserved you more than me.” yoongi never raises his voice but you could definitely sense the boiling anger in his words. 

you shook your head as the tears in your eyes were too heavy for you to speak immediately. “but what do you want?” 

“you already know the answer to that.” he spat, raising his brows.

“no! i don’t! because all you gave me are a few words. i need you to tell me you want me, you love me, and why you do. you said all that shit to namjoon but not me! can’t you see? i need you to tell me that. how would i know if you don’t tell me? i need to be sure you love me before i take the risk of loving you again!” 

you were out of breath after you screamed out your agony. yoongi could only stare at you with equally burning eyes.

and he pulled you in.

he pushes his lips to yours and held you close like you’d fade away if he lets go. his hand was at the back of your head, holding it firmly but not enough to hurt you. when you kiss back, it was like he could breathe again. like he was being chased by wolves and finally got away. like his world has finally turned at a normal pace because now you were here. 

when he pulls away, you both stand there still holding each other with your cheeks flushed red. “i love you. it’s always been you.” 

then he takes your mouth again, hands now wondering your body like he was sculpting it. 

he pulls away, catching his breath while speaking. “i’m sorry. for everything.” then he presses his lips on your again. you could only focus on how he was here, kissing you like he never had before, like he was communicating with how he invaded all your senses. 

he pulls away again, now foreheads touching each other. “please…” he says with closed eyes. “please love me again. make me yours. i’m all yours.” he kissed you again, making your heart skip a but as you gasped with a throaty sound against his lips. 

he kisses you like he will never have enough, tongue exploring yours and everywhere. his hand moved around your body like it has a mind of its own. 

before you knew it, he had led you to his bedroom and on his bed. he hovered over you as you both make out passionately. 

then he stopped, pulling away to stare at your face beneath him. he smiled. then his tears started dropping on your face. 

“why?” you mutter, placing a hand on his face, attempting to wipe any tears that fall as he fulls on breaks down above you.

“i love you so much.” he cries then buries his head on your neck. “please don’t leave again.” 

your heart broke at yoongi’s plead. you were about to comfort him but you remembered what just happened. you laugh. you throw your head back and laugh. “stop crying, yoongs.” 

he lifts his head and stares at you in the eyes like he was offended that you took delight in his misery.

“did you realize we just had our first fight?” and you give him a grin.

he looked a bit confused then he gets it, pulling you in a kiss again. 

and the two of you lay there, making love until the morning.

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you.

𓆩♡𓆪 want to be tagged to all my works or a specific one? 𓆩♡𓆪  : ̗̀➛ fill up this form here: taglist request form.

[oh-look-at-her]

Okay, guys. I just woke up and i had an amazing dream and I need you to tell me whether or not I should make a fic out of it.

My dream basically starts out in the woods and I stumble upon a big mansion and I decide to go in bc dream me is stupid and needs directions. I suddenly get slammed against the wall by a huge, buff vampire(and he's hottt) and he asks what I'm doing there. Of course I pull out the "I got lost" card and he goes;"stupid girl. You're lucky." and I'm like "why?" and he says "it's not feeding time yet."

At this point dream me is completely aroused bc she has no morals. Vampire guy decides to be nice and cut a deal with me. If I become his servant for a year then he can give me whatever the fuck I want. I'm obviously like "hell yeah" even though i don't fully trust him and he could be one of those villains that say they're gonna give you something at the end but then just kill you(although I don't really care whether I'm dead or not. Pretty indifferent towards that)

So I start going out and gathering people for a riot against the evil that's in the mansion in the woods. A big ass group of people is like "hell yeah, let's kill him!" so I guide them to his mansion and then i stay in a corner as I watch hot vampire guy absolutely devour them and hunt them down (when i tell you... He was so attractive while doing that...)

So this cycle kinda repeats a few times bc he feeds once a month or once every two months and after six months we've grown kinda close and we regularly have conversations and stuff.

After the seventh month and the fifth feeding, he comes to me and asks what it is that I want as a reward and I boldly go. "Well, you could kill me at any point. I don't care about that, though. The only thing I care about is not dying a virgin." (I'm not a virgin irl, but for some reason dream me is??)

So hot vampire guy looks at me all flabbergasted and goes "ok well, I'm probably not gonna kill you bc you feed me, but I'm sure you could just take one of the humans you bring to me and...use him."

And dream me is absolutely deranged and has no filter, so she just says; "No, I don't want one of them. I want you."

Hot vampire guy is flabbergasted but then he's like.... "Are you sure?" and obviously I say yes.

You can imagine what happens next.

(I'm so sorry, this was worded in such a stupid way, but I just need to know if y'all want me to write this or not. Also, if you want me to write this, please send ideas for his name bc I never got to hear his name in my dream.)

[groovebunker]

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Hope you're starting to feel better 😊

I think (atm) it's either the bonus chapter of wwyd where cc takes fran shopping OR the holiday party chapter of the agony aunt au where cc brings a date who looks a little familiar, niles loses his mind and fran loses her temper (in a hot way). i'm also planning to write the birthday party referenced in the chanukah fic bc i can't stop thinking about it 😭

an (unedited) snippet from the bonus chapter under the read more!

Fran knew CC was wealthy. It’s not even just about her things, the expensive clothes and the frankly ridiculous Upper West Side apartment, it’s in the way she holds herself and talks, the way she commands a room the second she walks in. CC is rich beyond her wildest dreams. Which is why she shouldn't be surprised when CC guides her to the personal shopping counter at Bergdorf’s and addresses the woman there by her first name.

“Anna, I called earlier to book an appointment for Fran Fine.”

“Yes Miss Babcock, I have your dress here and I’ve already pulled some gowns in the colours you suggested. I’ll take you through.”

She leads them through to the largest dressing room Fran’s ever seen, a rail of dresses in shades of pink and red standing in one corner. She feels like she can barely afford to stand there, let alone buy anything. CC comes to stand next to her, her hand resting on Fran’s lower back.

“Is this ok, darling?”

She realises she's not really sure. It’s just the opposite of what she'd been expecting when CC had suggested taking her shopping. She’s used to a shopping trip meaning several hours browsing Loehmann’s with Val or her mother, debating how much she can afford to put on her credit card this month. She loves it, loves finding the perfect thing tucked away at the back of the store and giggling with Val as they show Sylvia a succession of hideous outfits. Once a year, around the holidays, she comes down to 5th Avenue and lets herself dream about affording this kind of thing one day. When she's not a nanny on six bucks an hour. And it's not like she was expecting CC to shop off label. But she’s treating this like it's any other Monday, as if there's not a rack of dresses in the corner which each cost more than Fran makes in a year, as if half the staff hadn't looked down their noses at Fran the second they pushed through the doors, as if Fran could ever fit in in a place like this. This is CC’s normal and Fran’s so far out of her depth that she feels a little lightheaded.

“Honey, is this really necessary? I was just gonna go to Loehmann's.”

CC leans in a little closer, gesturing for Anna to leave them alone.

“It’s not really necessary, no. But I like seeing you dressed up in beautiful things. So…indulge me?” It’s not fair, Fran thinks, the way her voice drops or the way her mouth forms the word ‘indulge’. How is she supposed to say no to that? “If there's nothing you like, we’ll go anywhere you want.”

“It’s just…so expensive.”

“Maxwell was kind enough to give me his credit card. He was just so grateful that I was taking you shopping,” she grins, “He thinks I'm going to have a terrible time.”

Fran smirks. Mr Sheffield's paid for enough of her fancy outfits. What's one more?

“Oh, does he now?”

CC unbuttons Fran’s shirt and pushes it off her shoulders, letting it fall crumpled to the floor.

“Mmm, he was so apologetic,” she undoes Fran's jeans and pushes them down over her hips, helping her step out of them and her shoes, “So sorry that I had to take time out of my day to do this. Kept saying I was doing him a huge favour.”

He clearly has no idea. Or he's a much better actor than they’ve given him credit for. Fran’s not bothered either way, because CC’s pulling her over to the rail of dresses and looking at her as if she’s sizing her up. She pulls a maroon gown down and holds it up, scrutinizing it against Fran’s skin.

“This one first, I think.”

Fran thought she loved shopping because of the search, because of the choice and the possibilities. When they got here, she couldn't understand why CC would want someone else to pick out what she should try on, what she should wear. Not that it’s not working for her, clearly, but she thinks it must suck all the fun out of getting dressed in the morning. Fran’s clothes are so much a part of who she is, she can’t fathom having anyone else choose them for her. But now CC’s helping her into another dress, this one a deep cherry red with the neckline cut across her shoulders, and it fits like a glove and CC can't stop looking at her. This is probably the 7th dress she’s put on, and she’s been watching CC get more and more flushed, less and less able to string a sentence together as she helps Fran change and then bosses her around a bit, tells her how to stand and to turn slowly so she can see her from every angle. And Fran’s starting to get it. She doesn't want a stranger picking out her clothes, although Anna has done a very good job, but CC choosing them? CC looking at her in her underwear with that slightly hard gaze, flicking through clothes and deciding what she wants to see Fran in? And then lounging back against the mirror as Fran models them for her? It’s liable to ruin both her and the ridiculously expensive dresses.

“What do you think, darling?”

[sardonic-sprite]

I'm Back!

Wow, so Lent is over now, so my tumblr fast is also over and I'm still a little in shock, lol. I had hoped the past six weeks? I don't know, Time is weird, would be more productive but at least I got SOME stuff written/posted. Anyway, I have one more month of school and then fucking FINALS so expect sporadic updates at idiot-o-clock hours of the night, and maybe yell at me to sleep, eat, study, or drink water whenever i do post 😅

I am up to SO EFFING MANY wips rn on so many different fronts you guys have no freaking idea 😭 so here's a status report for EVERYTHING on or going on sardonic_sprite. (Its gonna be a monster post, y'all, bear with me)

in absolutely no particular order:

Wayne4Ham: We have a LONG way to go with this one, so just be patient and I'll slowly but steadily plug on through. Aaron Burr, Sir, should theoretically take me no longer than end of april

Wayne-Crazy: there's like 4 specific requests on it, plus a few 'series' i started, but after those, say 6-7, i'll probably mark as complete and only re-open if someone offers me an idea

Batman Beginners: i'll tell y'all up front, this one will take me forever. i don't even know what all I intend to cover, but know that i'm halfway done with the DITF arc, and it'll probably come out in the next two months

Just A Kid: this was my shits-and-giggles fic that got like 3000 notes in a weekend lmao. it's something i do intend to continue bc its so fun and i enjoy the concepts in it, but i don't have plans to actively write more of it in the immediate future.

Rev Wayne: just gave y'all Jason's fic, so the next probably won't come until late in summer, extrapolating from my few data points. if anyone has ideas for timmy's intro, let me know, i'd love some inspiration

Celeb Batwaynes: reported separate from wayne-crazy for reasons. i think theres like 12 specific requests plus 2 ideas of my own. i may put out a poll for the next one to write, but not until after school's out, because these fics are HUGE time-eaters for me. speaking of, are non-tumblr-users able to vote on polls?

Welcome to Gotham U: this was again, me doing shit bc why not. will probably add more in the style that i first posted, but i doubt i will write any prose for it. if you would like to give it a try, please reach out, i'd love to see what you write!

One Diamond: every time i touch this i make the cliffhanger worse lmao. i finally do have a direction, but execution is gonna have to wait a while.

The Young, Innocent, and Righteous: this is mostly just for me anyway, but i'm just gonna say that i'm waiting until i finish watching miraculous season 5 before i go any further

AS you wish: i have 5 more requests to do and i am so sorry to everyone waiting you do not deserve this lmao. i promise im trying, i love your ideas, it just takes me a really long time to fill in the rest and then actually write it. the next one on my list is particularly hard to pin down and so it's halting the ones behind it to. if not before, then after finals i will sit and bang my head on the keyboard until something good comes out

Light Isn't Fadin': soooooo many people have asked me about this one oof. SOMEDAY, i swear. right now its a huge, nebulous, hulking monster and im sorry it's just not happening yet.

A christmas carol: wait until december. please

Father's Day: june.

A Little Problem: over the summer, i will watch marvel movies until they once again hijack my brain and fuel this to completion. maybe.

easter eggs: how the fuck did i forget this lmao. i'm doing as much as i can in april, but when the month is done, i'm sorry, we'll all be waiting until next lenten season. hopefully it won't come to that.

aaaaand i THINK that's finally it. there's also a bunch of random paragraphs in word and google docs that may appear, not to mention ideas that kidnap me in dark alleys. but i also have like a good half dozen other wips for other places that im trying to attend to, so please be forgiving if it seems like its taking a while to post something as sprite.

as always, i love questions, comments, concerns, even some complaints, so feel free to interact.

See ya when I see ya!

sprite

[kooktrash]

i feel like last anon was being obtuse

at least for the USA there are two sets of 18/19yro

ones in highschool

ones in college/are living adult lives

reasons to believe that yandere highschool anon MAY BE a minor

anon is a 15-17 yro minor who wants to be aged up in fic to a 18yro/senior and wants Jungkook the same age

anon is a 15-17 yro minor and wants Jungkook to be older but not out of highschool hence the 18yro ages

anon is a 18 yro who wants Jungkook the same age and is still in highschool

Or on the off chance, this is an adult tryna re-live highschool through fic (which im putting my hands up and backing away cuz i dont know what to make of that)

the reason you have 18/19yro friends is because THEY ARE MOST LIKELY OUT OF HIGHSCHOOL AND ARE COLLEGE/FULLTIME WORK FORCE ADULTS

thats not hard to grasp... like come on

when i graduated HS in 2021, i was 19 (my bday is late - nov 2002). i felt like an adult when i entered college. i was not talking to other 18/19yros who were still in highschool cuz thats weird to me, even if we were the same age (excluding siblings/cousins). i dont know how other peoples highschools function but we rarely mingled with lower grades unless in extracurriculars but even then once you graduate you only really keep in contact with the friends you graduated with so...

but anyway, i was not reading online fics/published books set during highschool cuz that part of my life has passed.

and i even waited till i was in college to REALLY start reading smut fics. like i dabbled as a hardheaded minor but stopped cuz i realized that sex is not the end all be all of life. its only a minor aspect so i went back to being in a child's place (cartoons, barbies, and justice store). luckly i didn't need an adult to block and yell at me to leave them alone.

i say all this to say that highschool 18/19 is very much different than college/adult living 18/19, so people can very well tell highschool students to be off their page but still have 18/19 ADULT friends who go to COLLEGE or work a 9-5 and pay they bills.

but also highschool is boring and such a confining setting. you can't do much with it. even most books with highschoolers take majority of place outside school and dont even touch on highschool life.

the only one i can think of 13RW and we all know that could have taken place in college or military base/barracks or a futurist space academy on a actual space ship. hell that's probably why the book/show was so crazy cuz it had to be spiced up from regular ass highschool life.

im sorry this is long but yall not bout to make my good sis look bad/weird. like think critically for a second before asking.

ok no let’s talk about this 🤔

the anon felt the need to point out that I had a friend who is 18/19 like first of all who are you talking about bc if it’s who I THINK you’re talking about. she’s about to be 20 🤧 second, me choosing not to write characters 18/19 and below shouldn’t be a problem. I’m 21 YEARS OLD why would I want to write a character a couple years younger than me? even the idea of writing an 18 year old jk in high school with explico content is weird to me.

also, I graduated high school six months after my 17TH BIRTHDAY [oct. 29, 2001] and that was four years ago cause I graduated in 2019 , why would I want to write high school ANYTHING?

when I started college I was 17 and obviously had older friends too bc like you said that’s how adult life works. I have a coworker I’ve known since she was 17 and I didn’t even start hanging out with her till after she turned 18 bc what would I have in common with a high schooler?

anyways, the anons are running out of things to complain about so this time it was about me not wanting to write younger characters, just say you’re bitter or a minor and move on [and I’m not referring to the person who commented on my friend being 18/19 bc idk what their true intention was]

[iwillkeepfighting]

questionnaire by @lurkinglurkerwholurks

I cannot resist questionnaires. my goal is for this to be absolutely, horrifically irrelevant by the end of 2023, at which time we shall see whether I remember to fill out a new one.

THE BASICS

Name(s): ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ don't have a nickname to use here. open to suggestions I guess

Where do you post fic? Ao3

Primary/current fic writing fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Secondary/past/rotating fic writing fandoms: Ninjago, Monkie Kid, Batfam, a variety of others unpublished

Are there fandoms you write for but don’t read, or vice versa? Not intentionally, though I guess I do read Star Wars without writing anything for it

THE STATS

How long have you been writing fics? Three years according to Ao3; ten years counting the Archive of Past Shame

How many have you written? uhhhhhhh Unfathomable Multitudes of Snippets and Tidbits

How many have you posted (complete or incomplete)? Six on Ao3, one on tumblr [hang on I'mma go post the tumblr snippet to a03 actually]

What’s your word count by year? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What was your first posted fic? Something's Wrong in the Never Realm, circa 2019

If you write in more than one fandom, which is your most popular? Ninjago, so far

What is your most popular fic by bookmark? Something's Wrong in the Never Realm

What is your most popular fic by subscription? uh. Is that something you can view? I don't know

What is your longest fic? Unpublished, Donnienoes, at 40k words; published, Something's Wrong in the Never Realm

How long did it take you to write it? Donnienoes twelve days (spread out over one month), Something's Wrong two two-hour sessions

What is your shortest fic? Regarding Ninpo in the Apocalypse

How long did it take you to write it? two hours ish

How many series do you have? One (technically two)

Who’s your most commonly tagged character? Kai Ninjago starring in three out of six [seven] fics

What’s your most commonly tagged relationship (slash or &)? Qi Xiaotian | MK & Sun Wukong | Monkey King (it is my only tagged relationship thus far)

What’s your most commonly used other tag? no editing we die like plastic ninja

THE EMOTIONS

Was there a fic or writer who inspired you to start writing your own posted works? lloydskywalkers absolutely, back in 2019. Then audreycritter stoked the embers. Now, a handful of TMNT writers, particularly Taizi. i am leaving out so many people but if i go check my bookmarks/subscriptions i'll never escape rip

What do you remember about writing your first posted fic? Frustration with canon

Is there a fic or fics you’re most proud of, and why? I'm most proud of my unpublished recent stuff xP

Is there a fic you would redo completely if you could? I can redo any of them at any time so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Is there a specific detail (setting, interaction, quirk, dialogue) you stole from your own life to use in a fic? Not that I know of

Is there a line in your fic that makes you smile/snicker/chuckle every time you remember it? Mm not really, I haven't done much humor

Is there a line in your fic that makes you sad every time you remember it? Also not really, my own angst doesn't have the power to make me sad. however: “He… took me in,” Morro begins cautiously. “Gave me a place to stay, food to eat. Trained me.” Loved me. really sticks with me.

Are there any story ideas you’ve considered but are too nervous/intimidated to attempt? What are they? BOY HOWDY YES okay so to start we've got several CECverse Batfam ideas but like no I don't have the nerve to ask Audrey to play in her sandbox. Ninjago Shattered AU (do not have the nerve to ask Speedy). Ninjago Morroverse. so many Batfam AUs; I keep trying to give Tim superpowers but I can never commit to it. TMNT ideas for days. basically anything with a plot is too intimidating, bc I'm not good at plot and I'm too nervous to begin something without knowing how it'll finish

[natperv]

I loved your Kate fic and need more content of her from you!! Could I request an argument with Kate turns into her and reader’s first time (lots of tension and top! Kate bc I can’t picture her as anything else lol)

a/n: this took ages to write because i suddenly realized i forgot how to write good smut😭😭i’m sorry if it Sucks i would love some Genuine feedback in the comments on how to improve my writing !! i hope you enjoyed this anon sorry it took so long okay

priorities

fem!reader x soft top!kate

genre: smut!! some angst!! 18+

warnings: arguing, fingering (r receiving), teasing, some short-lived edging, overstim if you squint really bad

word count: 2.2k

you let out a bored sigh as the clock struck midnight. you have officially been waiting here for six hours, having arrived at 6pm for your designated movie night, which kate promised she'd be here for. you lounged on the sofa, staring at the ceiling and eating cold dumplings from a white container. you wish you could find it in you to be surprised, but she's done this often enough that you would have been more shocked if she actually showed up on time. the more humiliating thing was you really did want her to be there, you held your breath the whole time, pacing around the living room, jumping off the couch at every sound that erupted from the hallway. it was two hours ago that you gave up. and you would have gone home, but you were itching for an explanation. an excuse. the part of you that had grown resentful towards kate’s treatment was searching for any reason to leave, and you were trying so badly to hold it back.

movie night had been you and kate's favorite weekly event since you got together. the two of you longed for it, picking out a trashy romcom or a badly made horror movie and spending hours in each other's arms, making fun of the rigid plots and ridiculous characters. tonight was different, though. you had ordered takeout for dinner and set it up in her living room, candles were bought and lit, you even wore your favorite, most revealing dress. the two of you had been dating for nearly three months, and she was yet to go any further than a heated make out session. one time, she slipped her hand up your shirt and unhooked your bra before you were, very rudely, interrupted by clint and yelena. you have to believe she’s too oblivious to actually tease and bait you on purpose, which means she’s waiting for you to make the first move. and this was it. your move.

you spent the evening daydreaming about all the things kate could do to you once you gave her the chance. she was an incredible kisser. what else could she do with that tongue? it reached the point where you started getting overly enthusiastic, creating a million different scenarios in your head, the hundreds of ways she could take you. this is what happens when you’re left to your own devices in kate’s empty, boring apartment for six hours. you didn’t want to leave. you couldn’t, not now, when you’re so close to getting what you want. the wait was starting to frustrate you in more ways than one. so, when she walked through the front door--bow on her back, her hair cascading down her shoulders like a black waterfall, you didn’t know whether to rip her clothes off or slap her across the face. 

she set her keys down, unaware of your presence until you spoke, getting to your feet. “kate.” your tone was sharp. when she turns around, her eyes widen. she subconsciously lets her eyes linger down your body, your neckline was plunging, leaving very little to the imagination. the tight, black garment didn’t even make it past your knees, stopping halfway down your thighs. you clear your throat, feeling brush creep up your neck despite yourself, and cross your arms over your chest to alter her view as some kind of punishment. she blinks and for a second, it looks like she has no idea why you’re here, “ohh, oh, no, no, no,” she presses her palms together and brings them to her lips like she’s praying, “..i completely forgot about tonight.” she winces, preparing for your reaction. you scan her face, the desperation in her blue eyes. her cheeks are littered with cuts, but they’re also bandaged, which means she spent some time at clint’s before she got here. 

“right, you forgot again,” you spoke, rolling you eyes, “i’m not falling for that shit.” you walk over to her coffee table and start collecting your things, although you had no intention of leaving quite yet. she waves her hands frantically. “wait, wait, stop,” she walks further into the room, “okay, i was.. admittedly, a little late-” you interrupt, “six hours, kate!” she scrunches her nose, something she does when she’s trying to make up an excuse, “a lot late, but i-i--” she points towards the window at the street downstairs, “i was helping people, banks were getting robbed, children were being.. kidnapped, and vandals.. well vandals were..” she purses her lip as she searches for a word, “lurking.” you stare at her in disbelief. “you have got to be kidding me.”

“i’m not, i’m not, it’s--what, y/n, it’s a busy job, i can’t exactly take the night off,” she exhales when she says this, you can tell she’s convinced she’s done nothing wrong, “and..” she finally takes an opportunity to observe the room, the extinguished candles, half opened boxes of chinese food, “what is all this anyways, i thought we were just watching a movie?” you furrow your brows, embarrassed that you even bothered, “it was for you, asshole.” you speak, visibly unhappy, “you could have called,” you feel a sinking weight in your chest, “you could have at least canceled. but you didn’t,” you motion with your hands as you speak, “i didn’t even cross your mind, and i haven’t, for weeks you’ve been bailing on me over and over.”

something in the expression on kate’s face falters, but she holds her ground. “i understand you’re upset--i just--i don’t get why this has to be such a thing--” you pass a tense hand across your face, “because!” you grab a pillow off the sofa and throw it at her, watching her eyes widen in shock as it flops uselessly to the floor. “you’re pissing me off, kate!” you feel your voice crack at the intensity. you were tired of giving your all to someone who constantly put you second. kate licks her bottom lip to hide how much you’re bothering her. being upset is one thing, but is it really so deep you have to throw a pillow at her? damn. “y/n, you’re not being fair,” she sidesteps the pillow on the floor and moves further into the room, standing closer to you as she speaks, “i can’t control when people need me, i just--i’m new to this, i’m doing the best i can,” she runs a hand through her hair. “what more do you want?” 

“i wish you would pick me for once,” you look up to meet her eyes and are taken aback at how close they are, “show me you care about me.” the space between you is so little, you’re inclined to take a step backwards, but it only urges her closer. "i don’t want to pick at all, why does there have to be a choice--why does anybody have to pick anything, can’t i just want both?--” she speaks with a new severity in her tone, inching nearer and nearer, you’re not even sure she notices. with every step she takes forward you start to take one backward until you suddenly find your back colliding with the wall, her palms flat on your chest to keep you in place. does she notice she’s basically groping you? your heart stammers and you look down at them frantically. she follows your gaze, “oh--shoot, oh, i’m sorry.” she pulls her hands away, now unsure what to do with them, wincing at how awkward she’s made things. you secretly wish she’d just keep them there, take control, grab you and put you in your place.

she steadies herself. “you--” she starts, but her eyes are anywhere but your face. she swallows, the hollow of her throat rising and falling as she stares at your body. “you know how important being a superhero is to me--” you laugh, dryly, leaning your head back against the wall, “oh, i know!” your neckline was so low that kate had a perfectly good view of your chest, flushed, tinted red all over from the screaming. it rose up and down as you argued. “trust me, you remind me of how important your job is everyday--” you can smell her whole night on her collarbone. remnants of her missions always stuck to her flesh and left their mark when she was done. “--more important than me, more important than our relationship--and--” her proximity to you clouds your thoughts, you have to pause between sentences to stop looking at her lips. “and, i-i get it, but i’m sick of being your last priority.” you huff, finally meeting her eyes, the look in them entirely foreign. it doesn’t escape you, either, that her breathing pattern is starting to match yours: erratic and wild.

everything is still and quiet for a second. she licks her lips again, “y/n--” you don’t let her finish. you can’t control yourself. you grip her coat collar and bring her to you. your lips crash together and the kiss that follows is like nothing you’d ever experienced before, not with kate, not with anyone. a fluttering feeling runs down your body and settles in the center of your stomach. her tongue skates along your bottom lip and you part it willingly as your hands move from her coat, one burying itself in her hair while the other cups her cheek, pulling her even closer to you. you let out a stifled moan into her mouth as she nips at your lip, her leg settles between your thighs and you fight the urge to buck against it.

you pant when she leaves your lips and moves to your neck, stealing messy, hysterical kisses, and then your ear where she runs her teeth along the cartilage, threatening to bite down. when she suddenly pulls away you nearly gasp at the loss of warmth. “is this--are we really doing this?” your mind is so hazy from the kissing, your lips puffy and red, all you can do is nod feverishly like a crazy person and drag her back to you. she pushes you harder against the wall and her hands travel down to the space between your thighs. “you’re already so wet.” her voice is hoarse against your neck, sending jolts of electricity down your spine.

she teases a little bit, cupping your cunt over the fabric with the palm of her hand. you groan, “kate.” you plead, desperate to feel her inside you. she chuckles, sliding a hand under your dress to cup your tits. you arch into her, trying to buck against her hand, searching for any ounce of friction. she teases, her fingers pinching your nipples. you whimper, “what is it?” she speaks pleasantly, “what do you need?” she teases even further, your panties already damp. “i need—” you gulp as you gather whatever critical thinking you have left, “you.. your fingers.” you feel her smirk against your neck as she pulls your underwear aside and slides a finger inside you, your body accommodating her instantly. you let out a moan so loud you nearly slap a hand across your mouth to stop it. “harder,” you beg. “one more.”

“you sure?” she sounds genuine, you nod, “yes. god, just fuck me.” you finally say it, not caring how it sounds. she inserts another digit, pounding into you relentlessly. the sound of your wetness films the room, “yes, god, right there.” she kisses your neck, working your tits with her free hand, “i think about this all the time,” she speaks, her voice the only anchor in your lustful blur, “you feel so much better than i imagined.” she uses her thumb to rub against your clit and you buck your hips further against her, delirious, just desperate for an orgasm. “fuck, i’m so close—” she stops, abruptly, leaving you feeling empty, “no, baby, no, no, keep going.” she laughs at you, “do you know how hot you sound right now?” you whimper as you arch against her again, trying to get whatever you can. “you’re so impatient.” her voice is so sweet, you can’t believe the words leaving her mouth. “now ask nicely.”

“please..” you gasp as she brushes a finger against your core, “please, what?” you shut your eyes. “please, make me cum.” she hums in agreement, finally thrusting two fingers into you, angled to hit that perfect spot—a spot you didn’t even know you had. you writhe against her, knees week, her thumb finds your clit once more, stroking it. you sense the orgasm wash over you in waves, and she fucks you through it, only stopping when your body's shaking and you’re just about ready to collapse against her.

she pulls her fingers out, slowly, bringing them to her lips and cleaning them off. you eye her in awe, still a little delirious. she smiles, it’s a genuine smile, like she’s excited, and it confuses you how she can be so sexy without even trying. she cups your cheek and sets a kiss against the side of your forehead. “i’m sorry.” you laugh, falling against her chest as she surrounds you in a hug, “i’m sorry too.”

“stay the night.” she hums, stroking your hair.

later, the two of you sit on her sofa. you’re in a pair of her boxer briefs and a baggy t-shirt with an illustration of the avengers logo on it. she points at the screen lets out a loud laugh at something. you grin, leaning further into her.

[rebeccccccaaa]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ _____________________

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’s!ʙᴇsᴛ!ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs ᴀᴜ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You and Buck have always been close growing up but you two soon learn that the line that separates friendly and flirting is a lot thinner than you think.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fluff, slight angst bc u got a shit bf, big bro vibes from bucky, smut duh [18+ minors dni (slight praise but also slight degradation, marking, belly bulge, squirting, fem!rec oral, unprotected sex, plz be safe irl, slight choking, pet names: darling&princess, i think that’s it lmk plz)]

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hey assholes i'm back for the time being lol. I have a few ideas and fics I'm currently writing right now so do not fret.

______________________________________

You knew this was a horrible idea. 

It’s Saturday night and you and your boyfriend were back in another night club after being kicked out from one just hours before. Daniel had gotten too drunk, as he always does, causing you to kindly ask the bartender to cut him off. Daniel didn’t take that too lightly resulting in a gnarly swing at the poor guy just doing his job. 

Security threw you out and Daniel called an Uber to go where you thought was going to be your apartment but twenty minutes later you pulled up to another club practically on the other side of town. You yelled at Daniel but he pushed aside stumbling inside for yet even more drinks and mistakes waiting for him inside. 

You sat at the bar simply drinking some water and snacking on some peanuts keeping your eye on your garbage boyfriend. You're constantly checking the time on your phone, annoyed with every passing minute. It was 2 am and you just wanted to go home and sleep. You were even debating texting your brother Steve hoping you could just crash at his place not too far from where you were but it would be incredibly irresponsible to just leave Daniel in the state he’s in. 

So you waited and waited and waited. Your eyelids felt heavy and your energy was just completely drained. You were basically a zombie. It wasn’t until a guy approached your half asleep body that you felt a sense of alert. Daniel was shit-faced so you were practically defenseless. 

“Hey,” the guy shouted over the music.

“Sorry, I’m not interested. My boyfriend’s-” you quickly said, only to be cut off.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hit on you. I’ve got a boyfriend of my own,” he chuckled, making you breathe out in relief. 

“Sorry,” you cringed at yourself. 

“It’s alright; but uh, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You might want to check with your boyfriend,” he said sympathetically. 

You pushed your way through the crowd scanning every face in search of Daniel. What did he do? Is he hurt? Did he get in trouble again? Is he getting arrested? Where is he-

“Daniel?” you said eyes tearing up a bit. 

His arms were wrapped around another girl’s waist as he kissed her the way he kissed you. She practically moaned as their tongues slobbered disgustingly with each other. Their hips grinding against each other proactively as if you weren’t even there. Sadness turned to anger, and anger turned to rage, gripping Daniel’s short hairs and pulling his head away from whoever this girl was. 

“What the fuck?” the girl complained, her eyes completely bloodshot. 

“Did he tell you that he was here with his girlfriend tonight?” you're sad with gritted teeth. Daniel stumbled around still unable to register what the hell was happening. 

“Oh my god, you forreal?” she said.

“Who fucking cares? She’s a prude anyway. I got more action with you than I did her in the past, what, six months?” Daniel slurred. 

“You know what, you’re a fucking prick, dude. She deserves so much better than you; I bet your dick is small anyway,” the girl said.

“Fuck you too bitch,” Daniel spit. 

“I can’t believe you,” you said. 

“Oh, whoop-dee-doo, big fucking surprise. Babe, you’re a prude. Can’t you see it? I don’t know why I’m wasting my time with you anymore,” he practically puked out the words without any second thought. 

“Fine, then I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, you fucking asshole,” you stormed away holding in the tears; he wasn’t worth it. 

Almost three am and you just dumped your cheating lowlife boyfriend on the other side of town. Steve wasn’t answering his phone and you even wanna be near the club anymore. Walking speedily staring at your screen desperate to call an Uber home, you bumped harshly into a hard chest falling to the ground on your bum. 

“Fucking hell, I’m so sorry, darling,” the man said helping you up by your elbows.

“It’s ok. I wasn’t looking- Bucky?” 

“Oh, hey kid. What are you doing? It’s like three in the morning and you don’t live anywhere near here,” Bucky said, crossing his arms. 

“Daniel got himself kicked from the one by our apartment and Ubered here instead.”

“So where’s Daniel?” Bucky scowled; he’s always hated that guy, so did Steve.

“Probably fucking some other chick in the bathroom,” your voice cracked. 

“What?”

“It’s nothing; I just want to go home,” you cried.

“Hey, it’s ok; it’s ok. Do you wanna crash at me and Steve’s? He’s gone for the weekend with Peggy; you can stay in his room at least for the night,” Bucky offered; so that’s why Steve’s not answering his phone. 

“I don’t wanna intrude on your night. I can just call an Uber, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Steve’ll kill me if he found out I left his baby sis alone in the streets of New York at three in the morning. It’s not a problem, we were just bar hopping and I stopped drinking ages ago.”

“Are you sure, Buck?”

“Of course,” he smiled warmly at you. 

“Hey, Nat!”

“What’s up?” a beautiful redhead approached you both.

“Gonna head home ; don’t do anything stupid,” he chuckled. 

“You too,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Catch you Monday?” 

“You’re stupid. I’ll see ya,” Bucky laughed before grabbing your hand and headed towards his apartment. 

“Thanks again, Buck. For letting me stay here tonight,” you said once you entered his apartment. 

It had been a while since you hung out at your brother’s apartment but nothing’s changed. Typical men and their inability to change even a throw pillow. You set your small bag on the couch before Bucky led you to Steve’s room. There were pictures of you and him posing at Steve’s graduation; and later your own. Pictures of Steve and Bucky at a theme park, during a bar-be-que for Steve’s birthday. So many memories that Steve held onto in his room. 

“Time really flies doesn’t it?” Bucky said, slightly startling you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“No, you’re fine. But you’re right. Feels all these pictures were taken yesterday,” you reminisced. 

“I got you some clothes if you need to change; I’ll give you privacy,” Bucky said, slipping from the room briskly. 

You sat on the bed frustrated with everything. Your body was so drained from being up so early in the night, to the fight with Daniel. The past couple months with him were so awful. He was just so mean to you all the time and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Where did it go wrong? When did things shift?

"Is everything ok, darling?" Bucky asked quietly, knocking on the door when you hadn't come out after a while.

"What did I do wrong? I thought he loved me," you choked out. 

Bucky sighed as he walked over to the bed sitting beside you before engulfing you in a warm hug. You cried into his shoulder and Bucky couldn't help the anger that bubbled inside him for your excuse of a boyfriend Daniel. He never got along with the guy and now he finally has a reason to knock his teeth in.

"You didn't do anything, I know it. That prick wouldn't know love if it hit him in the face. It's his loss. You deserve so much better than that asshole. Look at me, you're so beautiful and funny and fucking adorable; any guy who can't see how perfect you are, is a dense piece of shit." 

"James," you whispered. 

His words made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. But Bucky’s always had that effect on you. Even growing up. You weren’t going to sit there and pretend that hearing his words hadn't had a deeper effect than they would’ve coming from Daniel. Sometimes you wondered what being with Bucky would be like. You’re not the first to admit how handsome Bucky was and growing up you did have quite the crush on your brother’s best friend.  

You don't know what it was, whether it was the alcohol still swimming through your veins, or just feeling so vulnerable being in Bucky's arms but you wanted him badly. You needed him, needed to feel something again. And you knew he could give it to you. You pressed your lips to his and in an instant his hands dropped to your hips pulling you impossibly close against his body. Your hands went to the back of his head as you kissed him messily. Your noses bumped and teeth clashed but it was the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

“Fuck, your brother’s gonna kill me,” Bucky mumbled, almost to himself, as he slowly laid you down on your back.

Bucky’s hands trailed up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh every now and then as he continued kissing you passionately. Your own hands couldn’t help but tug at his shirt desperately. When he did so, your breath was completely taken away. It had been years since you’d seen Bucky without a shirt. 

Not only had he been quite skinny just like your brother back then, but not long after leaving for college with Steve he was in a bike accident that left him with ghastly scars and burns along his left arm and shoulder. Since then, it’s fair to say Bucky never really ever took his shirt off. It had taken years just for him to remove the glove he’d always wear to cover the scars on his hand.

“You’ve gotten so strong, James,” you grinned, reaching out to brush the flexed muscles running down his front. 

He simply stared at you with an anticipating and anxious expression on his face, waiting for you to state the obvious. When you didn’t, when you pulled his head down to kiss him once again, he almost cried. Bucky hadn’t been with a woman in so long, afraid of this very moment. He knew at that moment, there was no one quite like you. 

Bucky fell in love. 

“Let me take care of you, darling. You’ve been so good to me,” Bucky whispered huskily in your ear as he trailed his hand under your own shirt brushing his fingertips along the underside of your breast.

His lips pressed softly against your hot skin along your neck before standing up between your legs at the end of the bed. He pulled your shirt off then played cheekily with the straps of your bra that you still had on. You smiled back at him with the same playful stare, reaching behind you to unclasp the material. 

You could see the way Bucky’s eyes darken and his pupils widened as he stared in awe at your naked chest. Your skin bursted into chills under his hungry gaze even though you felt like you were burning up. Bucky leaned forward kissing down the valley of your breasts, nipping once in a while playfully before laying you back down. He shimmied you out of your bottoms easily, kneeling on the ground leaving you completely bare before him. 

“You are absolutely stunning, princess,” Bucky whispered, running his hands up your thighs slowly. 

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you whimpered. 

“Don’t worry, darling. I promise I’m gonna take good care of you,” he smirked devilishly. 

He pushed your knees open, eyeing the arousal that glistened between your thighs. He brought his fingers up to you slowly rubbing your slick around before finally pushing a thick and long finger past your folds. Your body shuddered solely at the foreign but pleasurable feeling, already moaning softly. 

Bucky’s cock strained through pants upon hearing your beautiful moans; they were like music to his ears. He couldn’t help the way his hips would buck into the mattress in a desperate attempt to relieve some pain from his erection. Soon after he pulled his fingers from you slowly only to thrust them further in you, curling his fingers just right. 

He brought his mouth down to you, wrapping his lips around your clit sucking harshly. You gasped and your back arched, overwhelmed with pleasure Bucky was giving you with just his mouth and fingers. All the times that you’d given yourself to your ex, he had never made you feel this good before, feel this full; let alone with his fingers. Bucky was taking his time with you solely for your own pleasure and it made your heart swoon. 

Your legs trapped Bucky’s head between your thighs, squeezing as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. Your hands went to his hair pulling on his dark locks causing Bucky to moan deeply against you. You were so close to a release; your legs shaking violently and your stomach tightening. 

“Come on, princess. Want you to come all over my face. Can you do that for me, darling?”

“Fuck!”

“Be a good girl and make a mess,” Bucky teased.

His fingers moved faster as he swirled his tongue around and over your clit just as quickly. You were becoming overwhelmed and that coil bursted in the pit of your stomach. You pushed Bucky’s face from you, shrieking with pure pleasure; Bucky’s kept the rapid pace with fingers as you fell over the edge.

“Fucking hell, that was so hot, princess,” Bucky said standing up; his fingers, arm, his chest was covered in your arousal. 

“Did I do that?” your voice trembled. 

“Because of me,” Bucky winked playfully.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you let your head fall back on the bed as you briefly caught your breath.

Bucky grabbed his shirt that he discarded not long ago and quickly wiped his chest and arm before discarding his pants and boxers. He nearly moaned at the feeling when he finally freed his dick from the restraining garments. His hand instantly wrapped around the base before pumping himself a few times. 

You brought yourself onto your elbows momentarily ogling at the sight of Bucky completely bare before you. Your mouth practically watered at the sight. Bucky crawled over you kissing you deeply and messily; but perfectly. He pulled away and you both had goofy smiles on your faces before bursting into a fit of giggles, Bucky’s head burying into the crook of your neck.

“You’re so goddamn adorable, princess,” Bucky’s voice was muffled. 

“Bucky,” you whined. 

You couldn’t resist squirming underneath the burly man. Although, you’ve just had what was probably the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you wanted more. You needed more; you needed Bucky. 

“I got you, darling. I got you.” 

Bucky wanted to tease you more, make you beg, but he was just as desperate to feel you as you were. He propped himself up on his elbows kissing you one last time before reaching between your bodies and lining his dick with your entrance. Both you and Bucky moaned simultaneously as he stretched you out; curses spilling from his lips as incoherent moans fell from yours. 

“So fucking tight, princess. Squeezing my cock just right, aren’t ya?” he whispered.

“Fuck, I feel so full,” you whimpered.

Bucky began to slowly move his hips in and out of you deliciously. He quickly picked up the pace, jetting his hips rapidly making your moans louder. Bucky sat up on his knees and gripped your waist surely to leave bruises in your wake. This new angle surprised you and you couldn’t help the squeals and moans that left your mouth. You chanted Bucky's name like a prayer; as if it was the only word you knew. 

Bucky watched you carefully, your face contorting with pure euphoric pleasure. He couldn’t help notice the small bump in your lower belly and without a second thought, he grabbed your hands pressing them firmly over your tummy. 

“You feel how deep I am, darling? Fucking poking through,” Bucky grunted. 

“Shit! Oh, it feels so good,” you moaned. 

“That’s right, no one’s ever gonna fuck you this good again. This pussy’s mine now,” Bucky growled. 

He took one of his hands and wrapped it around your throat squeezing the sides gently but firm at the same time. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned even louder, confident that the neighbors were sure to complain in the morning. Feeling Bucky’s hand around your neck was so exhilarating; you and Daniel had never ever experimented with anything beyond a pair of handcuffs, and that particular night went horribly. 

You like being choked by Bucky. 

“Fucking slut; you like this, don’t ya?” he came down to whisper huskily against your lips. 

“Mh-hm,” you moaned with a devilish grin, your bottom lip resting between your teeth before your eyes rolled back again. 

“Such a fucking beauty you are.”

Bucky hips snapped in and out and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he needed to release.

“God, I’m close, princess,” he growled. 

His hand moved to rest on the back of your neck to pull you up so you straddled his thighs and your chest was flushed against his. Your sensitive and hardened nipples brushed against his slightly sweaty skin causing you to shudder in pleasure. Bucky’s lips attached themselves to your skin along your collar bones sucking harshly leaving purple marks all along.

Your legs shook once again as they did before and soon enough with an arched back and shout of Bucky’s name you came all over his cock. Overwhelmed with your sex, Bucky bit harshly on your shoulder in a poor attempt to muffled the loud groans and moans he elicited. Feeling your velvety walls squeeze tightly around him pushed him over the edge, coating your walls with hot ribbons on cum. 

He fell forward almost crushing you but you were too tired to complain. Bucky continued to pepper soft kisses all over your skin whispering how good you were to him, how beautiful you looked. Just absolutely showering with compliments. You felt him slowly getting off you, probably afraid he was crushing you, but you didn’t want him to leave just yet. 

“Don’t,” you whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around his body. 

“I don’t want to crush you, darling.”

“You’re not.”

Bucky chuckled before settling completely above you, careful not to make you uncomfortable. Hardly any time went by when he felt the even and soft puffs of air hitting his skin, sure that you had fallen asleep. He picked himself up and with major guilt for his best friend, picked you up from the bed and walked you to his own room. 

After he was sure you stayed sound asleep, Bucky grabbed a clean pair of boxers and hurried himself to Steve’s room again. He collected all the discarded clothes and the dirty sheets and tossed them in the washing machine to clean right away. 

He hadn’t meant to fuck his best friend’s little sister, let alone in his own room, on his own bed, but it all happened so fast. 

He went back to his room letting the clothes do it’s thing, and quickly grabbed his phone. He messaged Steve, telling him that when he got back for his weekend with Peggy, he really needed to talk to him. 

Tonight made Bucky realize how much he loved you. Growing up, you two had always been close. But he doesn’t know when he stopped being friendly and instead began flirting. Bucky wanted to be with you; he knew it now more than ever. 

Bucky watched your gorgeous sleeping form on his bed. He smiled to himself before opening the window; the sun already rising and those beautiful golden rays seeped through the glass window, making you look angelic. He crawled into bed cuddling flushed against your naked body. He chuckled softly when you realized he’d returned, wiggling even further into his arms. 

“I love you, Bucky,” you mumbled. 

“I love you, too, darling.”

And he really, and truly did love you. As did you love him. 

=======================

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[ssahoodrathotchner]

Pictures of You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you lose your memories of the last few years, including the ones of your relationship with Aaron. The rest of the team thinks it’s hilarious.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: memory loss, swearing, some angst, hospital, talk of injuries, team shenanigans and fluff

A/N: okay this was a lot of fun to write bc soft!Hotch rights !! also really wanted to make the team play a larger role in a fic so here we go :)

Masterlist

---

You wake in a hospital bed, Morgan by your side, and a godawful pounding in your cloudy head. With a groan, you try to raise one of your hands to cover your eyes as Morgan’s head shoots up to stare at you with a relieved smile.

“Hey,” he says, catching your hand before you can lift it higher, “Don’t do that. You had a nasty fall, Princess.”

Satisfied that you won’t make any more moves towards your head, he sits back down at your side.

“Should I even ask how you’re doing or…” he trails off when you glare at him. “I’ll go let the team know you’re okay. Boss Man will be happy to hear you finally woke up,” and with that, Morgan is up and out of the room before you can even open your mouth because what.

Shifting around in the bed, you try to gauge just how injured you are, but the soreness in literally your entire body coupled with the haziness in your mind from the constant pain makes you conclude that you’ll leave it to the doctors to tell you what’s wrong. Sighing, you gently tilt your head to the side and observe the various beeping monitors.

The door opens and as you turn to see who it is, your mouth opens in disbelief. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no fucking way. This is fake. This is a dream. Your stomach simultaneously drops and fills with dread. How is this possible?

“You’re dead. You’re dead. We buried you,” you say in a rush, as none other than Emily fucking Prentiss stops by the side of your bed, looking at you confusedly. “Does this mean I’m dead? Are you a ghost?” you wonder out loud, and Emily looks behind her as the rest of the team, except Hotch, file in behind her, seemingly fine with her sudden appearance.

“How are you here, why are you here, what happened? You died. You’re supposed to be dead which means I’m probably dead,” you continue to ramble, frantically looking from at each member of your team and then back to Emily.

“What? Y/N, you aren’t dead. Just like I’m not dead,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you are,” you say shakily, chest tightening as your breaths become shorter and shorter.

“Y/N…” she says slowly, softly, “I faked my death four years ago.”

And with that, your ears rush and your mind goes blank. No no no no no no we buried her six months ago, she’s dead. You don’t notice the rest of the team trading glances around you as the world you thought you knew shatters and reforms in your mind.

“No,” you croak, throat suddenly constricting, but Emily only looks at you worriedly, Reid slipping out the door behind her.

“Y/N, can you take some deep breaths for me?” and your head turns to find JJ at your other side, hand on your shoulder. “Let’s breathe, you can do this,” she says, taking exaggerated breaths to demonstrate, smiling gently as you cooperate.

Reid enters, now, followed by a doctor who, immediately upon reaching your side, proceeds to shine a light in your eyes and asks you to complete all sorts of short tests while the team looks on.

“Now, Agent Y/L/N, Dr. Reid informed me that you seem to be having some memory issues, which is normal,” the doctor assures you, “especially with the head trauma you endured. So, tell me what you can remember and we’ll go from there,” he says with a helpful smile.

Fuck. What do you remember?

“Well…” you trail off, trying to pin-point an exact moment. “I remember Emily—Agent Prentiss’—funeral because it was six months ago, but apparently—” your eyes slide over the rest of the team, “—apparently, it was more like four years ago,” you finish slowly.

“And that’s as recent as you can remember?” the doctor pushes. You nod your head. “Well, Agent Y/L/N, it seems that you have post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, which isn’t a surprise, as I said before. My guess is that it’s temporary, and that you’ll recover your memories in time.”

“Any ideas how long?” Emily speaks up, carefully looking at your face.

“With cases such as these, there isn’t a definite timeline or standard procedure for memory recovery,” the doctor explains. “It may help to look at photos or videos and tell stories to try and help Agent Y/L/N heal quicker, but the brain is tricky,” and with that wonderful statement, the doctor turns and exits, leaving you and your team staring at each other, processing the fact that you don’t know when you’ll get your memories of the last four freakin’ years back.

“So, from the research I’ve done, it seems that—” Reid is cut off by the door flying open and Aaron Hotchner, your Unit Chief, bursting into the room with a concerned look on his face wearing a hoodie and jeans.

Morgan tries to grab his shoulder, but Hotch shakes him off as he walks right up to your bedside and grabs your hand. Holy shit. Heat rises to your cheeks instantly and you think your heart might have actually skipped a beat but, you can’t help it, you’ve had a crush on Hotch for ages and he’s holding your hand. But you don’t remember a time when Hotch was so forward in showing concern for one of his agents.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, Sweetheart—” you’re pretty sure you’re dreaming because Hotch has never called you Sweetheart. Ever. You’ve also never seen him in anything other than a suit. “—Jessica called because Jack has the flu and then he wanted to talk to me and—”

“Hotch!” Morgan all but yells, interrupting Hotch’s update on Jack, as you stare pointedly at his hand, still holding yours, trying to control the redness growing steadily stronger in your cheeks. What the hell.

“Hotch,” Morgan states, softer this time, “The last thing Y/L/N remembers clearly is Prentiss’ funeral.”

You look up with a weak approximation of a smile, and watch Hotch’s face shift as he comprehends what Morgan said.

“That was years ago,” he says slowly, face hardening into a look you’ve seen too many times when he tries to separate himself from the information he’s received.

Looking down at you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, so you divert your eyes to his hand in yours. Once he notices this, he gently lets go and you know it’s silly, but you almost reach out for it again. Who knows the next time Hotch will want to hold your hand?

“So you don’t…” he doesn’t finish his question, which leaves you even more confused. Don’t what…?

“Umm. If it’s happened in the last four-ish years, then umm… Then I probably don’t remember it,” you say quietly, apologetically. “Sir,” you add on quickly, not wanting to forgo formalities even if your memory isn’t what it’s supposed to be.

However, instead of nodding, like you thought he would, Aaron Hotchner looks sad which confuses you even more.

“Aaron,” Rossi begins slowly, “the doctor said that talking about what’s happened since then may help Y/N’s memory come back.” Hotch looks up, almost relieved. “So why don’t you tell her something that’s happened since Prentiss’ funeral.”

And with that, Hotch takes a breath before reaching across your body to your other hand and holding it up. Not quite sure what’s happening, you allow him to hold your left hand up in your line of vision and that’s when you notice a fucking wedding ring. On your hand. Which Hotch is holding.

“I’m married?” you screech, looking at the team, who are now all trying not to laugh for some reason. “Who am I married to? Holy shit, what?” you continue looking around. Morgan and Prentiss look like they’ll break into outright laughter any minute. What’s going on?

Looking helplessly to Hotch, who is suspiciously quiet, you don’t have to repeat your question before he is carefully letting go of your left hand to hold his own up next to it and since when did Hotch wear a wedding band? Until you notice the striking similarities between the ring on your hand, and the one on your boss. What the actual fuck.

“We’re married?” you say, whipping your head to the side—ouch—to stare at Hotch, who is looking a little more amused than worried. “What? When? I just…” you can’t even finish your train of thought because your head is spinning so fast.

“Is it really that much of a surprise, Princess?” Derek chimes in. “I mean, you guys have been in love with each other forever,” and with that, he and Prentiss dissolve into a fit of laughter, which they try to smother, but you’re too busy taking in this very new and very interesting life development.

At some point in the last couple years, you married Hotch. Which means he knows you like him. And he likes you. You dated Hotch and now you’re fucking married. And you can’t remember any of it.

“…I don’t remember it…” you say sadly, softly and the laughter ceases.

Running a hand through his hair, Hotch takes a step back and shrugs, a small, reassuring smile on his face.

“We’ll figure it out, Sweetheart—” your stomach erupts into butterflies, “—we always do.”

With a sigh, you sink back into the pillows on your bed and stare at the ceiling, head throbbing worse than before thanks to all the new information.

“I just…” you pause to think about your current dilemma. “I just don’t know where to start with all this…Getting my memory back,” you look to Hotch and then the team, unsure of what to do.

“Well, the doctor did say that photos and videos might help. I’d be willing to recount every conversation we’ve had since Emily’s funeral, if you want, including the ones that you weren’t a part of, but were about you or a case,” Reid offers with a grin, and your heart melts.

Slowly shaking your head, you answer, “Thanks but maybe later, Spence. I’m still stuck on the whole I’m-married-to-my-boss thing right now.”

“Trust me Princess,” Derek laughs “I’m pretty sure all of us could tell you about how everything went down like a damn movie.”

“Yeah…” JJ continues with a fond shake of her head, “You guys weren’t very subtle about it.”

Sneaking a look out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hotch blushing and staring down at his shoes before he also sneaks a look at you, meeting your eyes.

“See?” Derek’s voice breaks your gaze. “This is exactly what I was talking about. You guys weren’t subtle and still aren’t,” rolling his eyes, he laughs a little and you can’t help but smile.

“At least they’re married this time around,” Rossi supplies. “No more ‘secret’ glances and yearning,” he says with such contempt you can’t help but laugh as Hotch—Aaron? — lets out a small chuckle of his own.

“Now I just need to remember how we got here,” you say, feeling a little more at ease. Slowly, you reach for Hotch’s left hand, studying the ring the matches your own. “Remember us,” you continue, just to him, and the smile that overtakes his face is the best thing you’ve seen since waking up.

“You weren’t wrong, Morgan,” comes Emily’s voice from the end of your bed. “This is just like a movie. Ugh. But don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll help you sort this out.”

“And I know just the woman for the job,” Morgan adds with a mischievous smirk which immediately makes you wonder about whatever it is he has planned.

“Now as much as I’d love to watch the two lovebirds gaze into each other’s eyes, I actually have plans,” Rossi states, looking down at his watch. “So, I’ll be back tomorrow. Have a good night, Y/N,” he says before waving to the rest of the team and leaving.

The rest of the team makes their own excuses to leave, and you can’t help but feel like Morgan and Prentiss have concocted some sort of scheme to “help” you get your memories back.

Running a hand over your face, you sigh. What now? The sound of someone clearing their throat makes you look up and realize that Hotch hadn’t left with the others, but was instead standing near the foot of your bed, looking somewhat anxious.

“I ummm… I was planning on spending the night here to make sure you were okay, but umm…” he trails off, unsure.

“But since I have no memory of us being together you think it’s weird…?” you ask gently.

“Yeah,” he answers in a sigh. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by being here, especially because I know how frustrating and confusing this must be for you…”

“Hotch,” you start, but he can’t hide his wince when you call him that. “Aaron,” you try again. “Yes, this is incredibly confusing and frustrating because Emily should be dead and I didn’t think you had feelings for me at all,” you pause and see him smile, just a bit, “But I’d really like it if you stayed here. With me. Because—” you take a deep breath. “—Because you make me feel safe, Aaron, and I need that right now,” you say gently, not quite sure where the confidence came from, but Aaron’s eyes soften and his smile grows bigger as his shoulders drop in relief. Worth it.

“Then I’ll stay,” he says, and you can’t help the heat that once again rises in your cheeks as he continues to look at you.

You guys are married, dammit. Pull it together.

Averting your gaze, you turn your attention to getting more comfortable in your bed and decide to fuss with the placement of your pillows because damn was your back starting to hurt, but Aaron beats you to it. Within ten seconds of arranging the pillows behind you, he has them perfect.

“How…?” you start to question, but he just raises his eyebrows. “Right. Married,” you say with a shake of your head.

Aaron finally sits in the chair next to your bed and reaches, almost absentmindedly, for your hand before catching himself and stilling. You can see the fight in his mind—he wants to comfort you and himself, but with your memory, he doesn’t quite know where your boundaries are. Taking pity on him, you grab his hand yourself, weaving your fingers together so he knows it was on purpose. Okay so you really just wanted to hold his hand again, but you’re married! You’re allowed. He takes a deep breath and leans back in the chair, turning his head to really look at you.

“How’s your head?” he asks, brow furrowed in what you’ve come to understand is genuine concern.

You pause and consider for a moment.

“Not terrible, but not great,” you say slowly. “It’s like there’s a fog in my mind that I can’t see through. I know I’m missing stuff, but I just don’t know what.”

Aaron gently squeezes your hand, but doesn’t speak yet.

“I want to know what brought Emily back, how we happened, what it was that gave me this fucking injury, I just…” with an exasperated huff, you collect yourself. “I just want to know.”

“Well, Emily should be the one to tell you her part of the story, and as for us,” he gives you a smile “it’s a longer answer, at least for me, so that will have to wait—Sorry, Sweetheart,” he says when you pout. “However, I can tell you about what landed you in the hospital. How does that sound?”

“It’s a start,” you tease, and yes Aaron smiles wider and rolls his eyes.

“We were chasing an unsub, and Garcia had tracked him to a warehouse not too far from Quantico. We went there and—” his voice wavers. You squeeze his hand. “—and the unsub had set explosives around the perimeter of the building. I guess you got too close to him when trying to talk him down and he triggered the whole set.” Aaron sighs, and his eyes are glazed over like he’s reliving this—which he probably is—and there’s nothing you can really do besides let him take his time.

“You weren’t right by any of them, but you were thrown back and had hit the ground before I could even yell at you to stop—not that you would have listened,” he says pointedly with a watery laugh. “You just laid there, Morgan and I carried you over to the medics as soon as the dust settled and they took you away as we cleared the rest of the scene.”

“And the unsub?”

“He didn’t survive the explosion. As soon as we figured that out, we left it to the local PD and crime scene techs.” He looks at you softly. “We came straight here after that.”

“How long was I out before today,” you ask lightly, curiously.

“Three days. Dave had to convince me to go home and shower on the second day.” He looks down before sneaking a sideways glance at you.

“Well I’m glad he did,” you tease, scrunching your nose.

“And I’m glad you’re awake, Sweetheart,” he replies, squeezing your hand.

You laugh and look away before mumbling, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“Get used to what?” he waits a second. “Sweetheart?” Motherfucker. He knows what he’s doing.

“That! I woke up convinced you didn’t have feelings for me at all,” you say with a glare, “and now I know we’re married and you keep being so nice and understanding and calling me Sweetheart and I just don’t know how to deal with all of this!” you finish in a huff.

“I just feel bad that I can’t remember this, us” you add, gesturing between the two of you. “I’m trying and there’s just—” you make a frustrated noise and flop back to stare at the ceiling. “And my head still kind of hurts,” you add softly, almost pouting.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Aaron whispers. He clears his throat before continuing. “You’ll get your memories back,” he leans forward to stroke some hair off your forehead. “And until then, you know the team and I will do what we can to catch you up and help you remember.”

You push your head further into his hand with a sigh. He runs his hand through your hair a few times before pulling back and you almost whine. You yawn instead. Settling down, you tug the blanket up higher across your chest and turn to face Aaron as he also gets comfortable. He turns on the small television in your room and at some point, you fall asleep holding his hand.

---

You wake to the sound of the door opening, followed by the unmistakable click-clack of heels worn by none other than Penelope Garcia.  

“Rise and shine! Time to regain your memory, lovely Y/N,” she sings, coming to a stop by the side of your bed as you roll over with a yawn.

“Pen—” you groan. “Let me sleep. Please.”

“Oh no, my little profiler. Do you have your memory back?” You shake your head. “Then we need to work on that! And don’t you dare tell me no; my wonderful Derek Morgan and I were up all night making this for you,”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Sadly, not like that. But, we compiled a presentation-slash-video montage for you about what you’ve missed!”

That catches your attention.

“Wha--? How? Penelope where did the footage come from?” you ask, more awake now.

“Well, I may or may not have used security cam footage for a lot of it, but that’s neither here nor there, so, without further ado, I present to you: your life for the past four-ish years!” and with that, she somehow connects her tablet to the TV and you see a picture of the whole team; Penelope then produces a remote from the depths of her purse and then proceeds to the next slide.

Which is a photo of you. And Aaron. Standing by the coffee machine in the office and smiling at each other, clearly unaware that the moment was being documented. The image is embellished with what must be close to fifty moving, sparkly hearts, obviously done by Garcia.

“First thing’s first,” she starts with a flourish. “Your husband!” and as if on cue, Aaron walks into the room, cup of coffee in hand. Much to your surprise, Aaron just rounds your bed to sit in the same chair you assume he fell asleep in, watching the screen.

“What is happening,” you say softly to yourself, looking from Aaron to Garcia and back.

“The doctor said photos and videos might help restore your memory, so who better to put something together than Garcia?” Hotch answers dryly, a small smile flashing across his face. “The rest of the team should be here shortly,” he says directly to Garcia.

“Oh good. I always work better with an audience,” she replies as you continue to process just what the hell is happening since you woke up approximately five minutes ago.

Within a few minutes, your hospital room is overrun with the rest of the team. Sitting, standing, leaning wherever they can find the space to view Penelope’s presentation with you in the middle of it all.

“Don’t you people have jobs?” you grumble.

“C’mon, Princess. Who better to help you remember the last few years than us?” Derek says with a cheeky grin that makes you roll your eyes.

You turn your gaze to Aaron and find that he’s already looking at you in concern.

“If you really don’t want all of us here we can leave,” he says just loud enough for you to hear.

“I just…” you take a moment to try and collect your thoughts. “I guess I just don’t know how to feel about all of this, but you’re all here so— “

“So here we go!” Penelope cheerfully finishes your sentence before turning back to the screen. “As I was saying before, part one of Operation Get Y/N’s Memories Back is all about—drumroll please—our very own Unit Chief, a.k.a. Hotch, a.k.a. loving husband to our very own Agent Y/L/N.”

With a shake of your head, purposefully ignoring the way Derek and Emily are whooping and whistling, you settle in and gesture for Penelope to continue. God, let’s hope this works.

---

It doesn’t work.

Fuck.

Three almost four hours later and nothing has changed for you. However, it’s a lovely opportunity for some team bonding and creating new memories, but you’re still disappointed. It’s not for lack of trying, though. Penelope did a wonderful job of pulling together a presentation-slash-video montage of your life, complete with titles such as ‘Your lovely husband,’ ‘The Miraculous Life, Death, and Subsequent Resurrection of Emily Prentiss,’ and even ‘Badass BAU Babies,’ which was a collection of team photos and news clips of cases you guys had closed in the past few years.

The whole team had gotten a kick out of each section, especially the last one, as Penelope had spared no one in her quest to help your memory; ugly selfies sent in the BAU group chat, embarrassing footage of you tripping up (and down) the stairs to the bullpen—courtesy of the security cameras, Reid doing physics magic and narrowly missing Rossi’s coffee cup, it was all there. But nothing worked, there was no magical ah ha moment where everything came rushing back. If anything, it really was like watching a movie; it didn’t feel like you were the one is all of these clips and photos. Not even Reid’s commentary made you feel any closer than before to recovering your memories.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Penelope had a veritable stockpile of photos of you and Aaron, ranging from the office, to cases, to the occasional night out with the team. Your engagement announcement, wedding photos, freakin’ everything on the two of you and yet, nothing seemed to make a difference to your brain.

The photo on the screen was one of you and Aaron on a case. You were tucked under his arm, snowflakes visible in your hair and his as you look up and laugh at something he said while he just smiles gently down at you. Penelope had put hearts over both your eyes.

“Actual heart eyes! I had to! You guys are so cute!” she basically squealed when the photo came up.

“What did I tell you,” Rossi said teasingly, “Yearning.”

Prentiss and Morgan hadn’t stopped laughing for this entire segment, with JJ and Reid occasionally joining in if there was something exceptionally ridiculous Penelope had included, like fucking heart eyes.

A hand covering your own makes you realize you had spaced out, and you look down to see that it’s Aaron’s hand, wedding band catching the light.

“Anything, Sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice, carefully watching your face.

You shake your head. “It’s like it’s someone else’s life, but I know it’s mine; you’ve told me it’s mine, there’s photographic evidence that it’s mine!” you say in a huff. “It just doesn’t feel like it’s mine,” you whisper, voice breaking at the end. Tears gather in your eyes and you bite your lip to stop it from shaking as you desperately try and control your overwhelming emotions. You can hear the team in the background, strategizing new ways to help you, but Aaron’s face hovers in front of your own, drawing your attention.

“It’s okay,” he says lightly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“No, it’s not,” you insist as a few tears make their way down your face. “It’s not, Aaron. What if this is it? What if I just don’t get my memories back?”

Letting out a long sigh, Aaron raises your hand to his lips and kisses your palm before folding your hand into his.

“You will. I know you will,” he says with such conviction you might just believe him if it weren’t for the way he rapidly blinks to keep his own tears at bay.

“Yeah, Princess.” Morgan chimes in from somewhere across the room. “We’ll figure this out, you know we will.”

And with that, you see something click into place in Aaron’s eyes and suddenly, he’s looking at you in such a way that your heart picks up—thanks, heart monitor.

“Aaron…?” you ask cautiously.

“Princess,” he says it so simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You only have time to raise an eyebrow at him before—

Oh.

Kissing Aaron Hotchner is something you could definitely get used to. His hand comes up to cradle your face as he gently moves his lips against yours. You sigh and can feel his smile against your mouth before he’s tugging your face closer, tilting your head just so and—

There.

It’s like opening a window to let in a breeze. Soft and sure, filling the space in a way that’s all-encompassing without being suffocating.

Like snowflakes falling and settling on his black jacket, like Aaron down on one knee sliding your engagement ring on your finger while you smile so much it feels like your face will break. It’s leaving cups of coffee on his desk during late nights in the office. It’s playing soccer with Jack as Aaron smiles and cheers both of you on. It’s being in bed late at night, falling asleep in the comfort provided by the man you love. Your wedding vows, promising to love him forever.

And you know.

With a gasp, you pull Aaron closer, kiss him deeper, harder, moving your lips more frantically against his. I remember I remember I remember and you think he gets it because he pulls back and looks at you with so much hope it almost breaks your heart.

“When I said I’d love you forever, Aaron Hotchner, I meant it.”

And his face breaks into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen as he laughs in disbelief before capturing your lips with his again, returning the urgency you had kissed him with just moments ago.

Someone clears their throat and you pull apart, smiles obvious on both your faces as you turn to the team who are looking somewhat confused.

“Would you mind enlightening us as to why you two are suddenly acting like teenagers?” Rossi asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well,” Aaron starts, grinning in your direction, “It would seem that— “

“Nuh uh. No way,” Derek interrupts him. “Are you seriously about to say that you kissed her and she magically remembered?”

You can’t help but laugh at his disbelief because what the hell and nod, unable to speak through the giddiness overtaking your body. You remember.

“Ohmygod! You guys!!” Penelope squeals before launching herself into your arms for a hug which she promptly pulls Aaron into as well; he doesn’t protest.

“What made you do that, Hotch?” Reid asks curiously once Penelope has let you and Aaron go. “Did you know it would work?”

“Princess,” Aaron says with a nod towards Morgan. “In Jack’s storybooks, a kiss always wakes the Princess so she and her prince can live happily ever after.”

Okay that’s adorable and you can’t help but aww with the rest of the team at Aaron’s confession.

“Happily ever after, huh?” you say, tugging on his hand. “Who knew you were such a sap, Hotchner?”

Rolling his eyes, Aaron just smiles. “Wasn’t it obvious from Garcia’s presentation? I’ve been in love with you forever, Sweetheart. And besides, it worked, didn’t it?” he says with a smug smile. 

You pull him down for a short kiss before moving back just enough to murmur “My Prince Charming.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” you turn to see Morgan shaking his head. “A literal fuckin’ fairytale,” and then he’s laughing and the whole team, you and Aaron included, are laughing with him because yeah this is pretty surreal.

“I can’t believe you thought I was a ghost!” Emily says once the laughter has died down, her arms crossed in mock-anger.

“Can you blame me?” you retort. “The last thing I remember was burying you and suddenly you’re here? Nope. No way. Ghost. Only explanation.”

“I have to say, Y/L/N, I’m glad you’re back, if only to stop Aaron’s sad puppy-dog eyes every time you called him ‘Hotch,’” Rossi shakes his head. “I don’t know how much more yearning I could take.”

“Hey! Be nice,” JJ admonishes, swatting Rossi’s shoulder. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah guys,” you echo. “Be nice! Don’t think I forgot you two,” you say, leveling Morgan and Prentiss with glares, “and all your laughter when I couldn’t remember that my husband and I were married!”

“Oh c’mon, Princess,” Morgan groans. “It was pretty funny. You were trying so hard not to look completely in love with your husband.”

“In my defense,” you start, “I didn’t know that you guys already knew how much I love Aaron, so excuse me for trying to hide my love,” you say with a sniff.

“Well, it was pretty obvious. Whenever you looked at him or he grabbed your hand, the heart monitor would register an increase in your heart rate by—” Reid starts to ramble but your laughter cuts him off.

“I get it, I get it,” you continue through your laughter. “I’m very in love with Aaron, even when I think it’s a secret, but as Penelope’s presentation so eloquently demonstrated, I’m not subtle and neither is he.”

Aaron leans over to kiss your cheek as the rest of the team continues into a conversation about Penelope’s presentation and how the hell she collected all those photos and videos in one day.

With the attention no longer on you—for now—you smile at Aaron, who smiles right back. He slumps back in his chair with a sigh, and you can’t help but pull him back closer to you.

“I love you,” you say kissing the back of his hand.

“I love you more, Sweetheart,” he replies softly.

Yeah, this is happily ever after.

[manonblaqkbeak]

How We Met

here it is, my last fic for rowaelin month! thank you so much to everyone that’s read, liked and commented on my fics, it’s been so much fun reading and writing these last four weeks! i’m glad to know that i’m not the only one that is in dire need of more rowaelin content (srsly, i would pay sjm a truck load of money for a strictly rowaelin book bc i miss them sm)

here’s part 4 for the little series i had going on. i was so tempted to make this an angst piece but held back lol.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw: none

1.8k words

enjoy and thank you again!!! :) 💕💕💕💕

Gathering the ingredients for the cake that she and Ophelia were going to make for Rowan, Aelin plopped them down on the kitchen counter and tied her and her six year old daughters hair back. Even in the kitchen light, Ophelia's hair was a vivid shade of silver and when she turned to look at her mother, the golden ring in her eyes were just as bright.

“Up, mama!” Ophelia asked, pointing to the step ladder that Olive made for her little sister in her woodshop class at school. Getting it off from atop the fridge, Aelin and Ophelia started their baking session for today. It wasn't often that Aelin baked cakes from scratch but it wasn't every day that her firstborn turned sixteen—not that Aelin could really comprehend that her Olive was sixteen—but Aelin wanted to do this for her, wanted to make something special.

She hoped that it wasn't going to taste as bad as the last cake she baked. Rowan had been sick afterwards and didn't go to work the next day.

That was five years ago, so surely with gaining wisdom as people said when others got older, her baking skills grew too.

“Where did everyone go?” Ophelia asked, her little tongue poking out as she helped Aelin sift the flour.

“To get dinner for tonight. We're having Ollie's favourite.” Which was cuisine from the Southern Continent, there was a restaurant that specialised in the spicy food, and Aelin couldn't wait—she and Rowan often tried to recreate their favourite recipes, but it was never right, so Olive wanted to have the genuine stuff for her birthday and not her parents shoddy attempts.

Not that Aelin could blame her.

They continued making the chocolate cake, Ophelia babbling on about her day at school, when her little one asked, “How did you and papa meet?”

Aelin blinked at the sudden question, but answered it nevertheless. “At the grocery store.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows, and with the way her nose scrunched up, she looked so much like Rowan that it made her heart sing. When Aelin first realised that she was pregnant, she was nervous, they had only been married for seven months and while they spoke about having a child of their own, she didn't think it would happen so quickly—but Rowan's enthusiasm melted away her fears. She would never forget his tears of joy when she showed him the pregnancy test, his beaming smile when they heard her heartbeat for the first time. Aelin would walk through hell, as long as Rowan was by her side, or waiting for her at the end.

It wasn't always perfect, however, they had their ups and downs like every long-term couple, they had moments where it felt like they were walking on tightrope, either because of their own personal issues or marriage issues, or when Egan was fourteen and completely lashed out at Aelin, accusing her of replacing his mother—but she worked with her son, telling him that she had never intended to do that, that Lyria would always be the woman that brought him into the world, and that Aelin was raising him. Her heart broke in two at his pain, but she understood, he grew up with photos and stories of Lyria.

Or when they had the awkward conversation when Olive was eleven and asked why she didn't look like Rowan, and Aelin had explained her story, about Sam being her biological father, but he had given them space for Rowan to raise her instead. That had lead to brooding silences and confusion, but otherwise, Olive still saw Rowan as her dad, but she did ask from time to time about Sam, what he was like and what he was doing (the last update Aelin received from him via email that his wife was pregnant with their second child. Aelin was so happy for him that he was able to have a family, a feat that was made easier since Arobynn had been dead for years by this point) and that she would like to meet him properly one day; Aelin had kept that to herself, not wanting to tell Sam in case Olive changed her mind—Aelin hoped that she wouldn't.

Overall, their life together was what she needed, she went to bed each night loved and fulfilled. It was better than what she might have had with Chaol all those years ago, she was fairly certain that if she had married him, it wouldn't have been a long marriage.

“How did you meet at the food store?” Ophelia asked, her brow still furrowed as she and Aelin stirred the cake batter. It surprisingly smelled good.

“I needed something from a high shelf,” Aelin said, “and I couldn't reach it. Your papa was only a few feet away from me, so I asked him to get it for me.” She might have also subtly ogled him as his shirt exposed his tanned skin, and Aelin had damned near swooned at the sight of his six pack.

“Did you get married at the food store?”

Aelin laughed at the question. “No, we got married at the beach. And then you arrived not long afterwards.” Sometimes they wanted another, but things financially were going so well that they didn't want to jeopardise that by adding another mouth to feed.

“Can you have another wedding?” Ophelia asked, looking at her mum with wide eyes. “So I can go? Please?”

“I'll talk to your daddy about it, but I like the sound of that.” Kissing her daughters forehead, they continued. Just as they were putting the cake in the oven and the icing mix in the fridge, the front door opened and three booming voices infiltrated the house and the mouth watering goodness of food.

Aelin's eyes widened at the amount of food that Rowan piled on the table. It looked like they were feeding a small army and not a family of five.

Ophelia helped her older brother set the table, Egan ruffing her hair as he recounted their little adventure to the restaurant.

As they sat down, Aelin mentioned Ophelia's request. Rowan pretended to mull it over as their daughter pleaded, giving her best puppy dog eyes. It didn't take for Rowan to relent—he really had trouble saying no to her—saying that a second wedding was a great idea.

Ophelia squealed in delight and squealed even more when food was placed in front of her (she was very much like Aelin in that regard).

“How did the conversation of another wedding start?” Rowan asked as they all started eating.

“Phia here wanted to know how we meet.”

Olive snorted. “Yes, the ever romantic story of meeting in the toilet paper aisle.”

“It was not the toilet paper isle!” Aelin protested. “It was the cereal aisle.”

“At least you kids have inherited my manners,” Rowan said, “your mother didn't even ask nicely. She just came over to me and said, 'You're tall, could you get that box for me?'” It had taken him a moment to realise he had been spoken to, too focused on deciding what box of porridge to get when Aelin showed up, wearing a faded band shirt and shorts, pointing to the box of cereal that had far too much sugar to be healthy. He had said 'yes' because it was the nice thing to do, and had stayed behind, talking to her for so long in the aisle that his vanilla ice cream had started to melt.

It was the best decision in his life back then, he never thought he would have gained a friend in the grocery store—and that the friend would become his wife.

“I have manners. I said, 'Excuse you' first before I told you what I needed.”

“That's not really using manners there, ma,” Egan said, smiling as poked her tongue out. He looked so much like Lyria that it was almost scary—he still loved flowers and plants too, and was currently studying to become a florist and then one day horticulture. The backyard was full of flowers and plants thanks to him, making into a little wonderland instead of the barren plain it used to be.

“I did say 'thank you' afterwards.”

“You said 'thanks',” Rowan interjected, laughing as Aelin threw a chunk of her flatbread at his head. Ophelia's cute laughter rent through the air.

“It's the same thing!”

“If you say so, love,” Rowan muttered, his lips twitching. Aelin rolled her eyes in the dramatic way Rowan was used to, but he saw the mirth behind the movement.

“Like I said Phie, it's very romantic,” Olive said drily, sounding very much like Rowan. She had even inherited his scowl, which she was wearing now as she sniffed at the air. “Is something burning?”

Aelin had never run so fast as she did right then, the kitchen filling with smoke as she took in the blackened cake. Swearing viciously under her breath, Aelin chucked the cake into the bin, apologising to Olive as she did so.

“It's okay, mum, dad got me an ice-cream cake earlier today anyway.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at her husband, who simply gave her an innocent smile in answer.

Rejoining her family, they talked well into the night, helping Aelin to forget her failed baking attempt. Ophelia asked more questions about their time in the grocery store and how that moment lead to friendship, to pining for the other without realising it, to a life together.

And to think, Aelin almost didn't go to the grocery store that day.

Rowan thanked the gods that he had remembered at the last moment that he had no porridge left, otherwise, he might not have met Aelin at all. Might not have had this life, this family. Part of him would always be sad that things had gone so wrong with Lyria, and he would always miss and love her. But he learned in therapy that it was good to have a life, and Rowan was glad that he heeded that advice.

He thanked the gods all the time.

And thank the rutting gods he did right now for the umpteenth time that Aelin deemed him tall enough to get her food for her, to stay in that aisle with him as they got to know each other.

Rowan was a very happy man indeed as he and Aelin went to bed that night, the smiles still on their faces at Olive's unrestrained joy at the sight of the car they spent weeks looking at second-hand dealerships at, hunting for the perfect car for their daughter.

Thank the rutting gods for all those moments in the past, present, and future.

Rowan couldn't wait to marry her again, and neither could Aelin.

Life was good.

[ladykatie512]

hiatus update

so april 18th, huh? it’d be a shame if i didn’t capitalize on this opportunity and start posting and saints again… okay, but in all seriousness that’s exactly what i’m planning on doing. i’m doing a lot better mentally, but these last few months have been an emotional rollercoaster. seriously, i can’t thank all of you enough who reached out.

updates from my last hiatus message: my personal laptop is still whacked but i’ve been getting a ton of mileage out of my work laptop and google docs. that modern au johnny/v fic i mentioned? yeah, it’s a full-blown smutty romance novel sitting at 142k right now and i’d hesitantly say it’s about 85% complete. apparently i’m also planning on posting it because of some lovely people i med on discord. i’ve also already started working on a cyberpunk space heist-type fic thing? I don’t wanna say too much because i think i’m gonna use that idea as my 2022 cyberpunk big bang fic, whenever that happens (because i’m insane and i’m not writing enough already. it’s like thanksgiving; i just keep piling things onto my paper plate hoping it won’t buckle).

i still haven’t touched my vaas fic (i know, i’m horrible), even after the dlc content came out. i loved it, btw. it was everything i could have hoped for and more. that hotel– just– ugh. it was just bad timing on my part, but also november was nanowrimo. i still can’t get over the fact that i sustained writing at least 1k a day from october 30th to december 18th (spiderman came out and i only ended up writing 500ish words that day).

as for the update i know a good portion of you all are reading this for: and saints. okay, here’s the thing, i didn’t start february thinking that bcs season 6 would be out in two months. and, hey, if i was smart and responsible, i would have pulled up and saints sooner and started tinkering with it last month when we got an official release date. yeah, no, i’m not smart. it took the swift kick in the head that was the season 6 trailer dropping and all of you coming out of the woodwork asking how things were and if i had seen the trailer or if i planned on updating and saints for season six– like, yes. yes to all of that. here’s my game plan, okay? i’m splitting chapter 39 into two chapters with three scenes each. so those two plus the next three are all around the same length outline-wise and should end up being around 5-7k words each. for those five chapters, i have collectively already written 23k words. at most, that’s only another 12k i have to write (that’s not even two weeks of writing, compared to what i had been doing. i can do this). i want all five chapters done before i start posting, because i want to do it weekly again (maybe sundays because bcs is supposed to air mondays?). i just can’t give exact dates right now because i cannot post a specific chapter on or around a specific day in april because– i can’t even say without spoiling anything. i’ll start posting again some time in april, okay? after the 5 chapters are written out i’ll see how i feel about the remaining nine (is my math right? 52 total chapters). I mean how awesome would it be if i finished and saints when the show ends, right? lol, no promises though.

below the cut, i have a hard to be a god chapter (we’re skipping a few but it’s a good stand-alone) because i literally have nothing else completed that wouldn’t be spoilery af. enjoy some jealous nacho, and take care of yourselves❤. the world is crazy right now.

TL;DR:  i’m still a sad bitch, my laptop is still dead, i wrote 142k words for a modern au cyberpunk fic (like, why, though? who needs that?!), i will start posting and saints again sometime in april, check out a nacho pov scene below the cut.

“Shit, man. Tito wasn’t kidding when he said you did clean work,” Travis looked up at Nacho from where he was leaning over, his head stuck through the front window of the Javelin.

“You like it?” Nacho asked, standing near the wheel well with his arms crossed over his work shirt.

“She looks great, better than new. Thank you,” Travis stood back up and went to shake Nacho’s hand. He couldn’t help but think of the compliment Jade had given him the night previous instead.**

“So, uh,” Nacho cleared his throat as he withdrew his hand from Travis’. “Are you still planning on selling her?”

“Now that I’m seeing her done, I’ll have to think it over— Why?” Travis tore his eyes off the muscle car to give Nacho a sly look. “You thinkin’ about buying?”

“You know,” Nacho scratched at the back of his neck, “my girlfriend really loves your car.”

Travis laughed before he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’d say.”

“Her birthday’s coming up in February, and honestly, this is the only thing I think she’s truly wanted since I’ve met her.”

“You’re gonna buy her a seventies muscle car for her birthday? Man, that’s gotta be some kind of love,” Travis chuckled before looking across the lot towards the front office. Nacho could practically feel Jade’s eyes on his back and was surprised she hadn’t run outside yet to say goodbye to the vehicle.

“It’s some kind of love,” Nacho repeated with a sigh, his eyes scanning the bright red body of the Javelin.

“Tell you what,” Travis tapped Nacho’s bicep with the back of his knuckles. “I’ll wait a week or two before I put her up for sale. Give you some time to think it over?”

Nacho contemplated the offer for a few seconds. He knew how outrageous it was to even think about buying a nineteen seventy-three AMC Javelin for his soon-to-be twenty-year-old girlfriend. Not even that, but he could only imagine how badly her parents would flip out. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call you when I decide?”

“Sounds good. Say, where is your lady anyway? I thought she’d be all over the car when I picked it up?” Travis asked and looked back towards the office.

“Uh, I think she’s upset,” Nacho shrugged and looked over for himself. The reflection of the cloudy sky on the windows didn’t allow them to see inside the shop.

“Huh, guess so,” Travis sighed, and Nacho looked back at him. If he wasn't mistaken, Travis looked a little disappointed.

“She’d probably come out if you offered her a ride,” Nacho added, despite the twinge of jealousy he felt starting to evolve into something messier, and Travis smiled at him. “Not saying you have to, but she’s been bugging me nonstop for one for almost a week.”

“And you were able to tell her no?”

“Had to, didn’t have a say. You do, though,” Nacho suggested again, trying to get Travis to agree, if only to make Jade happy.

“I’d love to, but, no offense, you don’t seem like the kinda guy to let his girl drive off with another man,” Travis argued. He was correct, and Nacho realized he must have accidentally intimidated the man and dropped his arms to his sides.

“It’s a special circumstance. Maybe if she gets a ride, she’ll get her fill, and I won’t have to dig myself such a financially steep hole,” Nacho tried smiling at the man. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from having a fit of sickly nervous jealousy.

“Maybe,” Travis nodded. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Besides, if she doesn’t come back, I’m not doing something right,” Nacho added in jest, but it only added to the tangle of anxiety and jealousy growing in his gut.

“Cool, man. I’ll go find her. I’ll bring her back in one piece, I swear,” Travis smiled widely at him before turning and heading for the office. Nacho only managed to nod again before he crossed his arms once more over his chest. After a few moments of waiting outside, Nacho wondered if Jade wasn’t in the front at all. Maybe she’d hidden away in the workshop or the storeroom.

Just as the thought crossed his mind that he should go find her for Travis, she burst through the front door.

“Are you serious?” Jade asked him as she did her best to run over in her heels. To Nacho, she looked like a wobbling newborn deer, and he tried to smile at the thought.

“Am I serious—?” Nacho barely got out before Jade’s arms were flung around his neck and her lips crashed into his. Nacho held onto her waist and did his best not to stumble backward from the force of Jade’s enthusiasm. He could taste the strawberry lip gloss Jade had been wearing and felt his heart stutter (a reaction no makeup product had ever given him before).

“You asked Travis to give me a ride? I can go?”

“Yeah,” he answered both of her questions with a single word, and Jade let go of him, stepping out of his reach. Suddenly, with a quiet squeal and her bottom lip between her teeth, her full attention was on the vehicle and Travis.

“Travis, let’s go! Where are we going?” She was already in the passenger seat as Travis reached the driver’s side door.

“I’ll bring her back, I promise,” Travis winked at him before he got into the driver’s seat and immediately started up the loud engine. The gesture made Nacho’s hands tighten into fists. He watched them drive off the lot before he forced himself to turn back for the upholstery shop. He knew he was overreacting, especially when he licked the remnants of Jade’s lip gloss off his lips, which only added to the black knot in his stomach. Even so, Nacho couldn’t help but replay that night over the summer when he’d dropped Corey and Joel off at their apartments. Nacho witnessed how quickly Jade had kissed her ex before jumping into his van, hoping for a quick escape. He couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t far off from boring Jade to that same point where she couldn’t stand to be around him any longer. Their two months of nearly steady dating felt like a miracle in itself.

“Ay, Nacho,” he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by Sal’s voice. “You okay, ese?”

Nacho only then realized that he’d stopped walking and had been staring at the half-open garage door, lost in his thoughts for an unknown amount of time. Sal was sitting outside on a crate, halfway through a cigarette break. He didn’t remember seeing Sal outside when he had turned around to walk into the shop.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“She’s coming back,” Sal added between puffs of his cigarette. “At the end of the day, it’s only a car, y’know?”

“Right.”

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

Ok, But Seriously, I Have Thoughts

I have... really mixed feelings about this episode, so I'm gonna talk about those feelings. And if my feelings about zep as a show and this season come out during that... so be it. (Seriously, this got long. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry). Also spoilers for the new ep below the cut, but y'all should've been able to guess that

- I... Zimon seriously deserves just so much better. We saw them as a couple together for three episodes, and they honestly weren't explored enough. Zimon... and this is a very personal opinion, but they really do strike me as a couple who never fully leave the honeymoon phase... like ever. Like, of course, they'll fight and disagree on a lot of things, but they also can have adult children, and just kind of act like newlyweds even if they've been married for over twenty years. And again, I know that's a very personal opinion, but I mean... we all knew c/arkeman was gonna be endgame, and it just feels like zimon was never given an actual chance.

- However, I do very much appreciate that their breakup was not messy, there's still clearly a ton of respect for the other on both of their sides, and that Simon is okay.

- "We didn't belong together." No, you fucking did.

- I am not going to stop writing Zimon fanfic either. In fact, this might spur me to write more and work harder on writing Zimon fanfic.

- Rose. Fucking. Deserves. Better. I'm not even gonna elaborate on this one. We all know it.

- Despite the fact that I fucking hate c/arkeman and that it was very, very rushed... I'm giving acting and singing props to Jane. I Melt With You is a song that's extremely personal to me. It helped get me through a point in my life where... I was constantly feeling at war with others, myself, and even felt unsafe in my own home (something I still feel today, no matter how irrational I know it is). I just generally feel a strong connection to every version of the song bc of that, whether it's the original or the Bowling for Soup cover (that was in Sky High!), and... Jane just has a way of making me feel safe when she sings. So, I really, really loved her cover.

- Um... yeah, I'm gonna be real, I don't like the idea of Max having powers. I don't know, I just think it kinda changes the whole original concept of the show, and I'm not a big fan of that...

- Simon! Simon working on changing SPRQ Point!!!!

- I do not really like how they handled Simon's racial bias/systemic racism in coding storyline *after* episode six (aka it only really being mentioned in passing, not being further explored, etc.), but,,, credits due where it's due I guess? I like how they handled him going to Danny Michael Davis, and how DMD listened.

- Sidenote, I kinda find it weird we as a fandom don't refer to him as Danny... it's Danny Michael Davis, DMD, or fucking Willy Wonka jokes. Makes sense I guess.

- Um... the writing was just... so lazy. Yeah. It's... really sad, I think that the show would've benefitted from even one less ep. But on the other hand... lazy writing is lazy writing.

- I think it would've been better - honestly - if Zoey's feelings of loss hadn't been connected to Max in a romantic way, but in a platonic/familial way. We didn't see a ton of their friendship, and yeah,, I hate Max, but there are a few moments there where you can see a legitimate friendship that's really sweet. I also think if they had maybe explored Zoey's fear of losing Simon as well as Max and centered the finale more on Zoey telling Simon about her power, it would've just been a lot better.

- But... honestly, after I just aired out all my issues with this episode (and the season too kinda),,, I honestly liked it. I hate that Zimon broke up and I just generally hate cl*arkeman but... this ep had some really great moments. Zoey and Mitch were beautiful to see again. Mctobin, Davidemily, and Mo x Perry were all absolutely my favorite parts of the episode. Hell, I'll even admit I... well I don't wanna say laughed considering I was so close to crying, but I let out a weird, breathy noise resembling a laugh when Zoey just blurted out she and Simon had broken up.

I don't want to say it was a bad episode, because I did honestly, enjoy ~parts~ of it... but... it wasn't even that cl/arkeman happened, I knew it would, but how it did... it just honestly (my g.od i need to stop writing that word) seemed like they were trying to kill off or like... fucking quash *any* hope Zimon shippers may have had,,, and the writing was just so fucking lazy, I just...

I started the show after dance one night because my teacher showed us the Help! number bc he was an extra in it. And I had already been intrigued by the few ads I had seen for it. So, my mom and I watched it, and we loved it. So we kept watching. And it was good! It was really good! Sure it could be cheesy, but... that didn't matter. I latched on...

I don't know if, ZEP is gonna get renewed, and if it is, I don't know if I'll watch it if/when it does. I latch on to shows really fucking hard when I do latch on. It's why I keep rewatching The Good Place and why I'll never forgive Freeform/Disney/Marvel for canceling Cloak and Dagger. The way I latch onto things is probably a bit unhealthy. And the fact of the matter is, despite everything, my overwhelming feelings about ZEP are positive. And I latched on. I'd honestly do it all over again.

I have a lot of feelings about this fandom and this show, both positive and negative. Still, I love it. Unconditionally. Ultimately, I don't care if Zoey ends up with Max or Simon (though, seriously, she and Simon are made for each other). It's a good fucking show, ships shouldn't be everything that matters.

I began lurking in this fandom when I was fifteen. I began posting fanfic for it when I was sixteen. I'm almost seventeen now. I was planning to get Tumblr when I was seventeen. I also knew I wouldn't forgive myself if I hadn't made my presence here known if it didn't get renewed.

I want to thank @simon-haynes because, uh, holy fuck, I adore you. Running a blog for fandom is something I couldn't even fathom, especially when a large portion of the fandom doesn't like your ship. I legitimately can't believe you followed me.

Thank you to @jennakang. You are, honestly, one of the best writers I've ever read from. You were so incredibly supportive of my writing on ao3, despite the fact you didn't know who I was, and that really meant the world to me. Thank you so much for your contributions to the fandom. Also, uh, fun fact, I was the anon who, after you expressed the want to write the quarantined Zimon fic, sent in that ask that was like "please do!" and also "hope I'm not being pushy about this". I don't know if you remember that at all, but your response meant the world to me.

And uh, lastly @myheartissetinmotion. Um, wow. I know we barely know each other, but I can honestly say, you have been my anchor for this whole show. I love both your Tori content on TikTok as well as just zep content you do on there, and how you wrote her into zep on ao3. I personally like to think of you as the pioneer of Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist Tok. You were pretty unbiased when it came to ships on there, and that made me feel safe in a place where there were virtually no zimon shippers. Your content was funny, and I always found myself laughing or screaming "accurate" at it. I know, I'm the nuisance who every few months DMs you about something zep related, but I hope you know, you made me feel both seen and somewhat appreciated in this fandom. I cannot thank you enough, Isabella 💗

I know Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist may not be ending. But this still oddly feels like the end of an era. I'm not leaving the fandom, I plan to keep posting fanfic for it and everything. I just want everyone who may be reading this to know I love this fandom and I would not take any moment here back.

Also, this is me formally asking for a link to a Discord group chat since I know it exists but I'm too scared to actually ask any of you for it directly.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Smut Recs: First Time

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here. Players could opt in to an additional suit of 13 cards, all themed around various popular smut tropes.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Another Heart Whispers Back by slytherco Rated:  Explicit Words:  53,693 Tags:  Friends to Lovers, Auror Harry Potter, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Oblivious Harry Potter, Virgin Harry Potter, Unrequited But Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Casual Intimacy, Humor, Comedy, Blind Date, First Dates, Bets & Wagers, Meddling, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Making Out, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Post-Coital Cudding, Shower Sex, Tattooed Harry Potter, Magical Tattoos, Taste of Smut 2020 Summary:  At twenty-five, Harry Potter is still a virgin and sorely lacking in options to change that state anytime soon. To help him find a plus one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and maybe kill two birds with one stone, Harry’s friends set him up on a series of blind dates. The only problem is, there’s something not quite right with each of their candidates. “Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” ― Plato In which Harry learns that some things are worth waiting for, that looking and seeing are two very different things, and that his heart’s song has been heard a long time ago. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Heart's Honest Truth by bixgirl1 & carpemermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  16,020 Tags:  Hogwarts Eighth Year, Awkward First Times, Truth Spells, Alternating POV, Magical Accidents, Getting Together, Magical Theory, 2017 Draco's Merry-Making Mini Fest See work for more tags Summary:  "Don't you think I would have gone to Pomfrey if I thought she could help me?" "Then what can I do?" "I nee--" Malfoy broke off with a soft grunt and a pained expression. He took a shaky breath and tried again, his voice wobbling. "Will you touch me, Potter?" Draco is cursed to speak in questions. Well...Spelled, thanks to the stupidly improper archival practices of the fourth century. Harry Potter is there to save the day, but Draco isn't going to give in to his help so easily. Fortunately, the method of saving might be more satisfactory than Draco expected this time. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 When All Your Dreams Come True by Drarrelie Rated:  Explicit Words:  9448 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - M/M/M, dubcon, Mistaken Identity, Pining, secret crushes, Plot Twist, virgins, Birthday, Draco Malfoy's Birthday, Birthday Presents, POV Draco Malfoy, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Sexual Fantasy, First Time, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Don't copy to another site, Fanart Welcome, Podfic Welcome Summary:  Six weeks ago, Draco gave his friend-with-benefits a most unexpected and precious gift for his birthday. It's only fair Blaise should reciprocate if given the chance, right? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Take a trip into my garden by Andithiel Rated:  Explicit Words:  5974 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Porn with Feelings, Established Relationship, Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, First Time Bottoming, Draco in lingerie, Bisexual Harry Potter, Rimming, Anal Sex, Really there might be too much feeling for it to count as pwp, As usual when I write, Enthusiastic Consent Summary:  Harry has only been dating Draco for about two months, but he’s already obsessed with the git. And he knows that today, Draco has something special planned, something that includes him being dressed in skimpy lingerie. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Inside Your Mind by lazywonderland Rated:  Explicit Words:  36376 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Top Harry, Bottom Draco, Harry Potter POV, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Bullying, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, FlirtingVirgin Draco Malfoy, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Anal Sex Anal Fingering, Smut, Angst, Overstimulation, Submissive Draco, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms, Protective Goyle, very very minor d/s elements, revolving mostly around subspace, Dominant Harry, Forced Orgasm, and lavender's alive bc i said so Summary:  Goyle's taken it upon himself to act as Malfoy's personal, one-man guard and Harry can't help but feel like it's only making the bullying worse. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 By Your Hands  by GiRa Rated:  Explicit Words:  7625 Tags: Smut, Fluff and Smut, First Time, Virgin Draco Malfoy, Established Relationship, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter Summary:  After being together for months, Draco wants to try going a step further with Harry. The only problem is that he actually has no idea what he's doing - but thankfully Harry is more than happy to guide him through it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Sexplanations (Of the Horrible Sort)  by bixgirl1 Rated:  Explicit Words:  7048 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Secret Sex, Secret Relationship, Humor, Snark, Confused Relationships, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, sex injuries, Semi-Public Sex, Embarrassing Situations, Bottom Draco Summary:  Harry's willing to put up with a certain amount of injury, as long as he and Malfoy can keep doing... whatever it is they're doing. Maybe. Mostly. Especially if there might be more to it than sex. Based on a tumblr headcanon. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Gentlewizard Club by Sophie_French Rated:  Explicit Words:  28129 Tags: Pining, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, First Time, Humor, Explicit Sexual Content Summary:  Draco wants what Draco wants. And if he has to snuggle up to Harry to get it, well, surely, Draco can handle that. Problem is, not sure Harry can. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 You Set My Soul Alight by parkkate Rated:  Explicit Words:  54075 Tags: Post-War, Auror Partners, Case Fic, Enemies to Lovers, Mystery, Adventure, Romance, Pining, Getting Together, Sharing a Bed, Banter, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Mildly Dubious Consent, Consent Issues, Secrets, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Sleep talking, Frottage, Rimming, Face-Sitting, Intergluteal Sex, Anal Sex, Switching, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Angst, references to suicidal thoughts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, References to Depression, Mental Health Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Arguing, Reconciliation, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:  Students are going missing at Hogwarts, but that's not the only mystery Draco is determined to solve. Something’s going on with Potter. He can deny it all he wants. Draco is going to find out what it is. Unfortunately, trying to get to the bottom of it has some unexpected consequences and if Draco isn’t careful, he’s going to jeopardise their mission. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Sincere Gratitude from the (Heart) Hand by _Melodic_ (Sae) Rated:  Explicit Words:  1325 Tags: Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, First Time, POV Harry, Smut, Humor, Shameless Smut, Porn With Plot, Prostate Massage, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Students, Pining, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Sexual Inexperience, Virgin Harry, Oblivious Ron, Awesome Hermione Granger, Seduction, Sneaking Around, Classroom Sex Summary:  Two weeks later and Malfoy has yet to repay his debt to Harry. Does Harry even want him to? Oh Merlin, yes he does! ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 You Are Safe (I Know) by hephaestiions Rated:  Explicit Words:  42568 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Hand Jobs, Voyeurism, Exile, Racism, Person of Color Harry Potter, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Past Abuse, Minor Character Death, Blood, Azkaban, Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Hyperventilation, Dissociation, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  Draco Malfoy is sentenced to one year of exile following his participation in the Second Wizarding War. Harry Potter tags along. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Spoiling of Sex From Enthusiastic Ignorance by Cibee (Cibeeeee) Rated:  Explicit Words:  6087 Tags: Humor, Fluff, Mutual Piningm Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, First Kiss, Making Out, Loss of Virginity, Awkward First Times, Eventual Enthusiastic Fucking, Vulgar Language, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Premature Ejaculation, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Draco Malfoy, Virgin Draco Malfoy, Flustered Harry Potter, Switch Draco Malfoy, Switch Harry Potter, Thirsty Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary:  Draco is going to lose his virginity, so help him god, and he's going to lose it to one Harry Potter. Why? Because of his big cock, his status as The Top Five Quidditch Players in England, and Witch Weekly's Most-Eligible Bachelor for eight years straight. At least that's what he tells himself. Too bad first times rarely go as one plans, and now Harry is looking miserable and Draco doesn’t understand why. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Lost Boys by Dahlia_Rose_83 Rated:  Explicit Words:  32278 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Party Games, Secret Relationship, Falling In Love, First Time, Smut, Clueless Harry, Insecure Draco, Helpful Luna, Oral Sex, Anal Sex,Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter Summary:  On his way to meet Voldemort in the forbidden forest, Harry ran into Draco, who kissed him. Now they're both back at Hogwarts for their eighth year and he doesn't really know how to act towards the blond. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Wings on Fire by CapricornBookworm Rated:  Explicit Words:  1938 Tags: Coming Out, Enemies to Lovers, Banter, Clubbing, Dancing, Semi-Public Sex, Kissing, Grinding, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Rimming, Bottom Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy, Morning After, Virgin Harry Potter, First Time, Wizarding Media, Idiots in Love Summary:  Harry was sick of being everyone’s angel, the 'golden boy,' the Chosen One. And if he was going to go out of favor, he was going to go out flaming. ❤️ Read on AO3

[kyber-crystal]

➳ good enough || s.r.

summary: after a long week you’re left completely exhausted. steve comforts you and helps you unwind. 

words: ~1.6k 

warnings: slight mentions of violence, angst, angst-to-fluff, a lil friends-to-lovers (i’m SORRY literally all of my oneshots are some variation of this but i just can’t resist), minor age gap? (if you call 5 years a lot). also civil war happened but they resolved it so 2017 au teeheeeeee

a/n: this sucked omg. why is my writing going downhill. also this is a red-room-turned-agent-reader who helped steve adjust when he came out of the ice bc i love cliche love backstories hehe...i tried to be very descriptive here but that failed oops. this is prolly one of my worst fics ever (it’s unedited) but my other one got deleted so i’m uploading this in its place!

Steve knew something was wrong the minute you came back from your mission. You always acted a bit off the first few days following your return, but for some reason, today seemed different. For the past week you'd been blatantly avoiding his gaze, refusing to meet his eye unless forced to. 

You don’t even return Sam and Bucky’s sarcastic one-liners - and you always make sure to send a cheesy joke right back at them. It’s not typical for you to be so quiet and reserved like this; frankly, it scared him. 

He knows that as a former Red Room assassin, you never had it easy. As the youngest of the twenty-eight dancer-disguised warriors, you were merely eight years old when you were admitted (Natasha was thirteen). At eight, there was much you didn’t know. You were naive, easily shaped to conform to the strict rules they’d set out for you. 

But despite all the hell you’d gone through in the past, you managed to find it in your heart to forgive and create a compassionate nature towards others. Especially him. He always wondered what he deserved to get someone like you-- he felt more than lucky to have you in his life.

It was 4 a.m, and his insomnia was at its worst. It had peaked ever since he’d come out of the ice - he was 27, had so much of his life before him before it was abruptly put to a stop. But then he met you, with your warm eyes and kind smile that was such a sharp contrast to the girl you used to be. 

The sound of muffled shouts coming from across the compound makes him look up - he sets down his mug of coffee and immediately heads down the hall to see what’s going on. 

Steve carefully pushed open the glass doors to the training facility, seeing you standing in front of a punching bag and attacking the hell out of it with an almost murderous look in your eyes - one he’d never seen before. The tape around your knuckles were splattered with your crimson blood. Despite the dim lighting, he could see the outlines of fresh bruises all over your arms and shoulders. The sight made bile rise up in his throat. He felt his heart break.

Every heavy blow of your fists was accompanied by a ground-shaking boom that echoed across the gym, unleashing the monster trapped inside. You pick up the pace and increase your speed, channelling all your pent-up anger and frustration and guilt into what you were doing. 

It hurts. You would give anything to get rid of the pain. It hurts like hell, but you would trade living a regret-ridden life for a guilt-free one in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes. Besides, you’ve experienced far worse before-- six-inch knife wounds, bullets to the abdomen and upper arms, broken ribs and noses. This should be a walk in the park.

The concerned super-soldier stood several feet away and observed you, silently watching you murdering the poor punching bag that’s barely withholding all the fury you’ve poured into pummeling it; it was about to burst at the seams.

“Y/N.” You didn’t hear him and kept going, so he repeated himself again. “Y/N.”

“What?” you snapped, keeping your gaze trained in front of you. “What the hell do you want?”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s late. What’s keeping you up at this hour?”

“Nothing,” you replied plainly, but he caught the brief flash of a grief-stricken look cross over your expression and your eyes glaze over, “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“You clearly aren’t. Y/N, talk to me. Please.”

“I told you, I’m,” you increased the force of your fists with each word you spoke, as you felt your eyes stinging, “just, fine!”

“Y/N...” he whispered, so softly, as if he was afraid he’d break you with a single sentence. 

That was the last straw. The tears spilled over. Your vision began to blur as you didn’t even bother to wipe them away. The broad-shouldered super-soldier, your fists, and the punching bag and everything insight are turned into blurry, shapeless blobs. You try blinking them away but it was no use; but you keep going. 

“Please tell me what’s going on. Tell me what’s wrong...please don’t shut me out. I only want to help.”

“Leave me alone,” you repeated with a growl, arms now aching with the pain of a thousand tiny needles. But he doesn’t, and he stays firmly rooted in his place. You hastily wiped at your nose with your hands. “For gods’ sake, Rogers, leave,” smack “me,” smack “alone.”

Your last punch was so hard the walls shook and caused Steve to take a step back in alarm. But after that, all the fight is gone from you. Your knees buckle from underneath you and your shoulders slump in defeat and you crumble to the floor. A sound so raw and hoarse escapes your lips and it sounds nothing near human. 

The metallic scent of blood mixed with your salty tears and sweat overwhelms your senses and makes your head spin. Suddenly the act of taking in a single breath seems impossible and your chest tightens, preventing you from being able to breathe properly. 

The ever-so-fragile wall that had been struggling to hold your tears at bay finally broke. 

Heaving, wrenching sobs clawed their way up your throat and tore through your already weary heart - escaping in broken, agonized cries and heart-wrenching howls that make Steve feel like his heart is deliberately shattering into a million, tiny fragments of glass. He doesn’t know what to do because for the first time in his life, the woman he’s always seen with her head held high and an unmatched confidence that could almost put the President to shame was vulnerable, letting it all out at once. 

Steve doesn’t ask any questions nor does he push to to speak up, but silently comes over to you and wraps you into a tight hug, cradling you against his chest. Your arms find their way around his torso, pressing your forehead against the soft cotton of his T-shirt as his free hand makes a gentle trek up and down your back. 

As if you were a delicate flower, he carefully brought your head closer and pressed a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger for a second longer than normal to reassure you. To reassure you that everything would in fact, be okay. Because he was there.

“Don’t leave me...please don’t leave me,” you choked out as he tightened his hold on you. “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t, darling, I promise,” he cooed, lips brushing against your forehead, “it’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay, we’re okay. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

Then, the suffocating pressure is eased off your chest, little by little. You began sinking into the comfort of his warm arms and soothing words. And with his reminder that you didn’t have to go through hell and back alone, because he’d be there, you began to heal. 

...

ONE YEAR LATER

“...Joining the Avengers has been one hell of a ride. I went through hell and back, had my fair share of ups and downs and fought in countless wars. But along the way I’ve been blessed with the privilege of getting a built-in second family and making some of the best friends I’ve had in my life. I met my soulmate.” Steve gazed down at you warmly as you spoke, “I honestly had no idea things would ever work out like this but now, I can’t imagine a life without knowing who all these amazing people are.

“It’s been 15 months since the day he saved me.” Everyone immediately fell silent. "I had hit a very, very low point in my life and I was just about ready to give up. It was like I was screaming into a void and nobody was there to catch me when I fell. I felt so helpless and lost. Stuck. If Steve hadn’t come along at the time he did...I don’t know what would’ve have happened instead. So, Steve...I want to thank you...for everything. I can’t even begin to list all the things you’ve sacrificed or done for my sake and I owe you. From this point forward I promise to always stick by your side no matter how rough things get. I promise to love you at your best and your worst; whenever you need me I’ll always be here. No amount of anything I do will ever match what you’ve done, but I can promise you this: I’ll love you until the day I die, ‘til death do us part.

“’Till death do us part,” Steve repeated, smiling through the tears in his eyes. “God, I love you.”

You broke into a gorgeous grin that had him weak at the knees.  “I love you too.”

“The rings, please,” Fury nodded over in Peter’s direction, and the teenager handed them over to the two of you. “Agent Y/N Y/L/N, do you take Captain Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you said softly, as you put on Steve’s ring.

He turned to the super-soldier. “And Captain Steven Grant Rogers, do you take Agent Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Steve took your hand in his and slid the diamond ring over your finger, “I do.”

“Very well, then,” Fury smiled widely, a rare sight. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Steve rushed forward and pulled you close, dipping you down low before bringing you back up and kissing you passionately. 

His warm lips serving as a reminder of all that you still had left to live for, that you had so much of your life ahead of you. A life with him.

...

general tags(this is from my old taglist spreadsheet, including mutuals who might be interested): @rynhaswritersblock @purpleskiesstorm @pies-writes-and-more @wxstedhexrt @captainchrisstan @sandystoriess @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @patzammit @capcapcapsicle @wheresmyjae @thinkingofbuckybarnes @carryonmywaywardbucky @musicalkeys @buckybarnesthehotshot @tombob2005 @zaddychris @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @sylvie-writes @sis-it-dont-add-up @tonystankschild​ @sunstalgia​

steve rogers/chris evans tags: @speechlessxx @angrybirdcr @stainedsouvenir @marvelfanatic16

permanent tags<3: @poesflygirl @sandwitch-god

[soulwillower]

long way home • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested:  please please please do a richie x reader about long way home by 5sos

warnings: nothing really, some mentions of canonic trauma but its really vague and underaged drinking

i was happy to write this bc it def got me out of my slump! lmk if yall want more fics

(also i loved 5sos so much back when the self titled album came out in like 2014. i was such a huge fan in middle school so this was so nostalgic to write!!) 

[reader + losers are in their first year of college, set around early summer 1995.]

2.9k words

♡

"i don't really know what else to do. we have an hour and a half until we meet everyone." you say, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen upon the car after bev had climbed out the back. you hum, settling back against the passenger seat, head lulling to meet richie's gaze.

 you can't help but smile. he's looking at you - just staring, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. he hums, too, turning his head, arm grabbing the shoulder of your seat as he backs up the car. "i have an idea. let's just go - what?" he asks, smiling with a chuckle as he catches you staring at him.

you blink as you flush, "i don't know. just really missed you." you say with a laugh, shaking your head as memories flood your mind. his face flickers for a second and he shakes his head, hair bouncing slightly in his flattery. "gee, i missed you too. it kinda sucks that we all went to opposite sides of the country." 

you blow air from your lips gently in agreement as richie starts to drive somewhere east. "yeah. not seeing you for six months is, surprisingly, pretty shitty." you say, causing richie to snort. "you could barely handle it." he says, hand shifting gears as he stops at a stop sign. 

you roll your eyes, but you don't tell him the truth: he's right. "let me tell you, when i got the bear last, i sure wanted to forget all about you." you say, kicking your feet up on his dash. 

you and the other losers all split ways after graduation. of course, you all still kept in touch with phone calls, letters, and that of the sort. but you all had found a favorite way to all still feel close together: a toy canvas bear bev found that you all signed and drew on, shipping it around the country and letting it stay with each person for a week. 

you'd all been printing photographs of the bear with yourselves at various places around all your campuses and sending them along with the bear as little post cards. the most recent from richie had the tattooed-bear propped next to him at a party, smirking with the bear in a vulgar position that had made you roll your eyes so hard you almost got a headache.

 that was in april, and you spent the month and a half after that missing richie and your other dumbass friends so much it hurt. 

richie smiles, "oh, yeah. that bear had some fun times with us up in the ol' N-Y-C."  "-don't call it that."  "-anyways, i did miss you guys, i wish you could meet my roommate, charlie, he's a hoot. i almost wanted to stay up there and have you come to me, y'know?"  you nod, all too familiar with that feeling. "yeah, i wanted to do that too. there was some kind of-" you stop, frowning. do you really want to admit this to anyone? will they think it's weird? but then you remember it's richie. "-i don't know, some kind of dread i felt at having to come back here." 

it's quiet for a second, and you think you said something wrong, but richie's knuckles tighten slightly and he nods, "me too. i have...bad feelings from this place. i didn't want to say anything, but- i don't know. i feel like something's..." but the thought seems to swim away from his voice, getting lost in the dredges of his brain.  

and then as if on cue, the old car bumps its way over a speedbump and you cross past old neibolt street near the tracks. 

 a sick shiver runs down your spine as your eyes fall on the long road, fading away and extending as far as your eye can see...almost into a foggy dark haze, the train tracks running parallel making you feel desolate. 

clouds suddenly move to cover the sun in the sky and you feel cold - you feel like something happened here, something important - but you have no idea. it makes you anxious, so you just swallow, saying nothing and instead looking ahead. richie does the same, and his knuckles are pale against the wheel. 

"the only reason i came back was so i could see everyone." you say. it's quiet, but you know richie's agreeing with you. 

the car rumbles on, eventually pulling past your old high school. you perk up, pointing to the glass and laughing. "wow, look at that shithole." 

"swore we'd never go back there, didn't we? when we left?" richie says, amusement lacing his tone. you're clearly both relieved to have changed the subject, and you nod, chewing your lip. "yeah. you know, i know it was really terrible and stuff, but i have some pretty fond memories from that place." 

humming, richie nods and slowly pulls into the parking lot. “remember those days?” he says, “kickin back in the ol’ schoolyard during lunch.” 

you do remember those hot days, richie, bill and bev smoking cigs while you and eddie play a game of marbles or scramble to copy richie’s math homework. ben reading a book, mike eating stan’s sandwich. the heat barreling down on the eight of you... 

he stops the car next to the football field and you snort slightly at its misery in the dying purple and blue of the summer twilight. "remember those bonfires that were always over in the woods right there?" he points a chipped nail towards the dense trees on the other side of the field, and you can see it. 

the crackling of the wood, the orange glow reflecting the light strands of stan’s dark curls. there’s a sea of students from your class and the class above, everyone rowdy with drunken fun. there’s laughter drowned out by the boombox placed on the outskirts, blasting a salt-n-peppa song that has eddie bouncing around with some kids from track. over to the side, you can nearly see bev's lips curl around a note as richie strums on someone else's guitar, putting together some surprisingly pleasant chords while mike throws twigs into the fire, singing softly with richie and bev. 

you can almost smell the smoky hot air from those nights and you remember the odd sensation of feeling invincible back in those days, when your greatest fear was nothing more than coming across your parents when you were too hungover to remember anything the next morning. 

it’s almost melancholic, the realization that you’ll never have those years again. you’ll never have your friend group in the same way as you did in high school, and it was barely over a year ago. it hurts a bit, until you realize you’re here, in the car with richie. 

but still, despite the feeling, you grin. “why did we think it was a good idea to party so close to the school?” 

richie chuckles, “it was safer. for some reason.” 

it makes you smile, "i wonder if those pabst cans are still hidden in all those hollow logs." you muse, a gentle smile splaying over your lips. richie huffs a small laugh at the memory of jorge garcia drunkenly stuffing the empty beer cans quickly into the log when the cops came. 

a car pulls into the vacant lot behind you, and richie takes the liberty of driving away again, still not really sure where you're going. 

the trees roll past, and soon you're passing through the downtown section of derry, causing the two of you to fall silent as your eyes flick up and down the nearly desloate streets. the aladdin passes by quickly and you remember going to see so many films with the others for less than five bucks a pop, richie slipping an arm around your shoulders and whispering in your ear about the weird worker who always gave you the eyes. 

you smile lightly as your eyes fall to look ahead, passing the corner store. you remember how many times you and richie and stan stopped there after classes or during lunch to grab slushes while the workers weren’t looking. you remember the sticky fingers and bright blue tongues. 

then as you stare more at the ugly front of the store, memories from middle school scratch the surface of your brain. "didn't the boys..." you say, perking up as you turn and watch it pass, richie looking at you attentively. "-eyes on the road, rich." you say absent-mindedly, "...didn't they... steal stuff from there? i can't remember why... it was for ben. tissues?" you ask, tilting your head. richie's brows furrow. "i had to stay outside with him, all i remember is bein' pissed i couldn't go in. dunno why, though." he mutters. you hum, sinking back in your seat. 

"crazy, how quickly you forget your childhood." he says quietly. 

the town slowly fades away before your eyes, and its just then that you realize you're going the opposite way from bill's. then it's plain grassland and marshes, dipping into the barrens. your lips twitch and the silence, while pleasant, makes you feel nervous. 

you look to richie, all nervous slowly releasing from your body. 

you feel stupid for thinking it, and you don't dare say it, but there's something really sweet about being in the middle of nowhere with him. 

you feel like driving along this ugly, terrible road on the outskirts of a truly ugly and terrible town with someone as beautiful and captivating as richie is such an important moment; as if the roads along here are a place only you and richie share to yourselves. 

"i kind of like taking the long way home with you." you let slip instead, instantly feeling hot and panicked as the words leave your mouth. "y-you know, because i just really didn't want to- er, i don't like being-" 

as you stutter out some excuses, he leans forward towards the wheel, face turning to you with a smirk. "oh?" he asks. you feel flustered, your hands sweating and heart tingling as you stare at his handsome face. 

"god, sorry." you say, feeling flushed, "i don't know why i keep rambling. it's so awkward." 

"y/n, you could talk about anything." he says with a laugh, and you look at him, trying to ignore the sheer zoo of animals parading around in your stomach and instead escaping this moment with a sarcastic, "even dead squirrels?" 

he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his hair glinting in the light. "yeah, whatever baby. i just don't wanna be wasting my time alone when i could be here with you. that's what i'm trying to say." 

and the stupid pet name almost makes you snort but you also get butterflies, the words that he's said making you smile so wide you're almost embarrassed. "yeah, well." you say bashfully, "i guess spending my time with you is, like... the best part of coming back home." 

you avoid eye contact, staring out the window as you pass the house of your junior year bio partner. "hey," richie nudges your jaw and you almost jump at the feeling of his cold ring against the warmth of your skin. he speaks softly. "i'd never let you down, you know." he says, mischief in his eyes. you smile against his hand and look at him, his blue eyes warm and inviting and looking like home. 

your eyes fall back towards the windshield and you see a sign up ahead. shifting, you look at richie again to find him still staring. 

he's got such a terrible habit of watching you instead of the road (he has since high school), and that combined with his lead foot (also since high school - wentworth tozier was a menace on the streets) has you conditioned into reminding him of every obstacle that he may run into while driving. 

"stop sign, richie." you mutter, knowing in his ramble he won't notice it (it happened way too many times as high schoolers). he seems to not really hear it, and you say again, "stop sign!"

just before it's too late, the car lurches as he slams the breaks and you just barely hit the white line, your hands bracing yourself against the dashboard. "oh my god." you hiss, shaking your head. richie's laughing. 

"we've been hitting every red light. can't i just have one pass to not stop at one of these things?" richie says. you roll your eyes with a slight head shake. you can't believe him. 

"you'll be the death of me, tozier." you mutter. richie's still laughing quietly and then he takes a big sigh, hand reaching out. you lean forward, hand reaching for the volume knob on the stereo just as richie does the same, and your hands brush by accident. you feel warm and instead of pulling away, his hand covers yours and he gently turns your hands, bringing up the volume of a green day song. it's seemingly just in the background as you watch your hand in richie's, then slowly turning your gaze up to his face. 

he just stares at you as you stare back, wanting so badly to kiss him but wondering if he feels the same. 

"hey." he whispers, quiet for the first time possibly ever. "hey." you respond softly, watching as he comes a bit closer. his hand is still in yours. "i am so happy to be home. with you." he says sincerely, his eyes wide and honest behind his glasses and his smile soft.  your breath catches slightly and you smile, "me too. i always feel like this is the way it's supposed to be. u-us." 

something in richie's eyes change, a light of sort, and then he's leaning into you and you're kissing. 

his hand that isn't in yours falls to softly rub your thigh and you're taking a shuddering breath as your lips touch his. he tastes like mint chapstick and those stupid red-hots he was eating earlier, his lips slightly cold but his tongue warm as he slowly pulls you closer to him. 

your mind almost falls blank as the world melts away, the only thing in your mind is how long you've missed out on this - richie is kind of unexpectedly a fantastic kisser. you pull him closer by his hair as his tongue grazes yours, his thumb tilting your jaw for a better angle. 

but suddenly a horn honks loudly behind you and you both spring apart, your stomach panging with anxiety at the noise.

"shit." you hiss as you remember you're at a stop sign. richie snorts slightly, a smirk on his face despite the blush on his high cheekbones, feet going back to the gas pedal and clutch. his hand leaves your thigh as he drives forward and you clear your throat as the car turns behind you at the intersection, leaving you two back in the middle of nowhere with just you two. 

it's tense for a few minutes, neither of you two really talking and you can tell the tension is going to kill richie, his hand twitching on the shift and his leg bouncing. 

you break the silence after a couple more moments, "did you want to pull over-"  "-yes." he says quickly, car almost swerving as he pulls off the road near the quarry. you laugh and grip the handle of the car as you slide to a stop and he laughs too, the feeling of glee unmatchable. 

you both unclick your seatbelts after gaining a few breaths, and then you're leaning over the console to kiss richie hard enough on the lips that he falls back towards the window. he holds your face with his hands and he laughs a bit into the kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip before tugging it. "goddamn, you're eager." he mutters into your mouth. 

you smirk, pulling back. "fine, i don't have to kiss you. we have to be at bill's soon, anyways." you say, feigning a fake dismissive voice. 

"wait, no, no. we've still got 20 minutes." richie defends after glancing at the stereo on the dash. his eyebrows raising in a plea. you giggle, leaning towards him and bringing your arm over. he's beaming as your face nears his and he moves to kiss you but you turn your head, instead letting his lips graze your neck as you lean to turn off the headlights.

"tease." richie mutters hotly against the skin of your neck before biting down softly, kissing over the skin. "i thought you said i was eager?" you say with a teasing smile. he hums, "y'know, it's pretty unfair to be teasin' me, toots. i've been eager to kiss you since we were seventeen." he says, and you can't help but smile, pulling him in to a kiss as his hands slide up your thighs and yours tangle in his messy curls.

you pull away slightly, "you want to get in the backseat?" 

taglist:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier​  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby​ @trashedfortozier  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @oceandog13​ @chl0bee @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @screammin @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters @five-motherfucking-hargreeves @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter  

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[fragileizywriting]

man the PROBLEM with my impulse to write the "fun" demon lovin fic first before all of the in-between fics (they're all fun, but, i mean. there is, like, no plot in color coordinatin. at all. which means i can just literally do whatever) is that if i wanna talk about one of the in-betweens, i gotta mention the ~~~semantics~~~ which is like ugh because no one lives in my head

like omg i have all of this thought out and planned, you know?

and instead of subjecting one or two friends with my absolute train wreck of a thought process, i decided to subject all of you instead :) you're welcome <3

anyway. bear with me! all of these fics will get written i promise, i don't like leaving things unfinished and we will not mention the three abandoned fics i have on AO3 right now and there's like, a handful more fics in this au in store for us. two handfuls. lots of thousands of words left. we might be, like, a third way through from how many more words i probably have to write. a fourth. i am terrible at managing my projects.

and this project literally came out of nowhere.

like, omg, this entire (ENTIRE) au literally sprouted because of a typo error in the first chapter, and we only got to me writing the first chapter because i listened to 'maneater' by nelly furtado and thought of marinette dancing to the song. canonically that is the song she was dancing to in the first scene of demon lovin'. no one knows that bc i never told anyone. i didn't even put that in the author's notes. i should. i'm gonna go do that. and omg the song is so good.

did you know demon lovin' was actually going to be an adrinette fic? except in the first scene i accidentally wrote “Why do we keep pretending we don’t like her?” for adrien's dialogue instead of “Why do i keep pretending i don’t like her?” and i just kind of ran with it. i never told anyone that, either, i'm pretty sure!! congrats!!! authors notes. doesn't it pay to follow me? :D

and now it's like, four months later, and you can pry lukadrinette out of my cold and dead hands. ride or die.

anyway. sorry. rambling (ramblin')

i have a new fic idea for the au that i'm going to take absolutely six years to get to but i wanna share it so y'all keep me in check!!! i'm putting it all under a cut because it's long and i just wanted to word dump / brainstorm a fic idea

i want to write a fic somewhere in the middle of all of this, or even it goes after coordinatin', doesn't matter, where marinette gets a fever. just full-out delusional. at first she plays off the headache because, well, she's marinette. marinette doesn't get sick. she's never gotten sick. i'm going to have to come up with a "succubus only get sick and feverish from a particular illness" thing for this story, and i'll think about it when i actually write this out

she got sick. somehow. i'll figure it out somehow idk.

she manages to convince adrien and luka that she has to call nathaniel, because nath knows a doctor. adrien is pouty. he doesn't like nath. luka is reluctant. he also doesn't like nath.

but marinette is sick, and they know nothing about succubi health, so they agree.

marinette's fever gets so much worse.

by the time nathaniel shows up with marc (a character i haven't mentioned once in the fics yet so now i gotta fill you in about their role in the au, so give me a second) marinette's close to bursting to tears because she's in the middle of the next wave of fever, starting to slip into another round of gibberish and unrecognizable speech, and she goes on for twenty to thirty minutes to marc about how nathaniel is her prized possession and the jewel of her life and she's so upset that nathaniel had to move out of her cradle and into their's because she's not healthy enough to even be a cradler anymore, and she doesn't even have a cradle and she's unfit and terrible and no wonder nath moved out, because a cradler without a cradle is like a leg with no body

nathaniel is sweating. adrien has always looked at him with that blank, flat-out annoyed expression whenever he's near, but somehow luka looks no better.

everytime nathaniel tries to slip his hand out of marinette's grip, she grabs him tighter. nathaniel is sweating bullets. the two of them look like they're counting the minutes in order to kick nathaniel out of the house, which would be the easiest and least painful thing possible, because they look murderous. at some point he just acquiesces, knowing that if he's going to die, he might as well make marinette comfortable. he still really loves marinette, after all, and he doesn't like seeing her uncomfortable.

even as her two husbands(??? sure) look like they're gonna kill him. it's fine. it's fine. everything's fine.

marinette is so full of glee and happiness when she gets to lay her head down on his lap. nathaniel makes an effort to ignore the way that adrien is looking like a whole storm.

anyway, between all of this, nath's new cradler marc (they/them), is the doctor!!! of course. they immediately recognize her fever, already start prescribing her what to do. she doesn't listen to them, claiming that she knows how to take care of succubi when they're sick with a fever, but nath just rolls his eyes.

"she's trying to get out of taking medicine." because nath knows everything about marinette. they were cradle mates for almost their entire life. "she hates honey."

"what." says adrien. "what." says luka.

nathaniel looks at the two of them as if they're dumb. "she hates honey. she has never liked honey."

"do not make me eat honey," marinette says, somehow completely lucid, still petting nath's thighs. it is a good cushion. she's always felt better when nath's hands are in her hair. "do not. i will kick and scream. nasty nasty nasty. i know there's medicine in it."

luka and adrien are completely befuddled. marinette tastes like honey. she's always tasted like honey. how does she hate honey?

"honey will make the medicine go down easier," marc argues.

"i know there's medicine in it. there's no need for the honey."

i don't know where else to take this. i just want to write marinette struggling to get nathaniel to comfort her like he used to, luka and adrien not trusting him one bit, and nathaniel trying his hardest not to die.

oh, and a sick marinette that refuses to go on bed-rest. luka and adrien both find out that it is the equivalent of trying to herd sheep.

anyway hi good job making it to the end i love you